


Soul Sick

by ManiacsofTamriel



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Daedra, Dark Seducer, F/F, FxF, Intrigue, LGBT, M/M, Morrowind, Original Character(s), Peril, Romance, Sixth House, Vvardenfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 12:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 151,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11208174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManiacsofTamriel/pseuds/ManiacsofTamriel
Summary: Dunmer aristocrat and profligate wastrel Eldrin Llethri has just been giving an incredibly valuable gift, a ring created by an ancestor that can summon a powerful daedra.  The Mazken Valka will not prove to be exactly what he expected, and together they are enmeshed in a web of occult intrigue as the Sixth House begins to rise in the era before the events of TES III: Morrowind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, dear readers! Xy here.
> 
> First, this story is the first uploaded here that was edited by me, not Isaac, so I am to blame for any mistakes you find that were not there in the "Through Blood And Through Fire" dyad. 
> 
> Second, it is a bit different from some of our others in that one, it is more definitely a romance as its length goes on, and two, its discussion of sex and sexuality is more ongoing and overt. My coauthor and I have covered this in the tags, but I felt it was worth mentioning just in case: there is a lengthy sex scene between two men toward the end, and before that point there is some explicit discussion among the characters and a frank though less detailed discussion of a lesbian relationship. This is largely a drama, but sex is an important part of that. If you are uncomfortable with these topics and scenes, please do not continue reading.
> 
> For everyone else, we hope you enjoy our story!

##  3E 426

##  Ald'Ruhn

 

 

A thump yanked Eldrin Llethri away from blissful nothingness. He was suddenly aware of tightness in his throat, throbbing pain in his head.  He clenched his eyelids down against the light,  the Dunmer's face contorting in fury at the scrape of claw on stone and the slight ruffle of fabric being picked up and folded. He knew it was that stupid slave gathering his laundry from the floor. Her footclaws always popped out when she was near Eldrin, some kind of anxious reflex.

 

"Ayem curse you, n'wah!" he belted hoarsely. His groping hand closed around the neck of a ceramic bottle that was partially wedged under his back and Eldrin hurled it as hard as he could in her general direction, his eyes still closed. He heard ceramic shatter against the wall and a frightened yelp, and then scampering paws as Tsamabi retreated. Eldrin rolled over, burying his face in his silk pillows, but it was too late. He was already painfully aware of the pressure in his bladder and a hundred little aches all over his body from sleeping in bad positions. He groaned and forced himself up with one arm, the other hand cupping his throbbing forehead. He didn't remember coming home last night, but he'd somehow managed to make it to his bed after undressing himself.

 

Partially. Eldrin's torso was naked and his pants were gathered around his ankles, caught up on his shoes. He shifted around until he was sitting, blanket still tangled up in his legs, and reached down to yank those off. He pulled his pants up as he stood, kicked himself free of the blanket with all the grace of a baby guar wriggling out of its placenta, then stumbled out and to the washroom across the hall.  The mer was 5'8” and about 165 pounds, sinuous beneath smooth ash-blue skin.  He was without the sort of crass and bulky muscle that would be occasioned by a life of manual labor, but regular exercise had lent his body a sort of sleek muscularity.

 

An hour later Eldrin had bathed, forced down some fruit and water to quell the pains in stomach and skull, and finished dressing out of the massive armoire adjacent to an equally massive bed. It was piled with pillows of various sizes and shapes. The light duvet and most of the bedsheet were spilling over the side and across the floor where he had half-dragged them getting up earlier. Clothes from the previous night were strewn beside it. The room was otherwise very neat and orderly.

 

Beside the armoire, to the left of the bed, stood a table with a stool that doubled as wash basin and vanity. It was all one piece, carved from some dark wood imported from Black Marsh. The frame of the mirror that rose above the basin had been carved with the images of saints in flowing robes, their hands cradling the oval mirror. A collection of bottles and boxes cluttered the rest of the table the basin rested upon, containing various oils, perfumes, and ointments. A paper screen divided this corner of the room from the rest.

 

Moving counterclockwise around the room, several thick, round cushions for entertaining guests were arranged around a blown-glass hookah on a rug near the corner to the right of the door. A lute lay across one of the cushions. To the left of the door stood a little round table and two wooden chairs, a limeware bowl full of pomegranates resting on the tabletop. There were more limeware pieces on the nearby shelf, along with a few books, trinkets, and several bottles of sujamma very much like the one that now lay in shards by the door.

 

One of the wall tiles had broken when the bottle hit. It was really no matter; the vibrant tapestries depicting the saints or Almsivi and the potted scathecraw were already hiding several cracked or missing tiles. The cream and red patterned tiles decorated the bottom third of the tan stucco walls, and again formed their complicated geometry on the ceiling. The smooth, arching ridges in the high ceiling only mimicked the interior structures of a crab shell, but those ridges in the ceiling of the upper floor were genuine. It was comfortably cool here in the lower level.

 

The Dunmer now looked significantly less disheveled with his shiny black hair combed and smooth, dampening the back of his silk tunic down to his shoulder blades rather than hanging in balls of snarls. The tunic was a deep royal blue patterned with diamond fractals in a lighter shade, and embellished with strips of dark turquoise cloth running from his shoulders to the bottom hem, which reached to mid-thigh. Passages from Lord Vivec's Seven Graces were writ in gold thread here, although the lettering in Dunmeris was so heavily stylized that it was difficult to read. The flaring bell-shaped sleeves ended at his elbows and a tight, pale red undershirt continued to his wrists. His baggy gold pants were tucked into the collar of his shoes, which rose just past his ankles like boots. The toes curled up at the tips and they were decorated with more layers of soft, dyed leather and beads arranged in floral shapes.

 

A steel tanto hung from his thick, braided leather belt. It was not his favored weapon, but it was  stylish and  something Eldrin could easily carry in public. He picked up the golden-and-orange patterned shawl laying by his bed and threw it around his neck before taking one last look in the mirror and finding himself satisfactory. He wasn't even baggy under the eyes.

 

Heading out from his room for the second time, Eldrin noticed that the door to the family's private shrine was open. His father was kneeling before the triolith, head bowed in prayer, back to the door. Red candles on tall brass stems were lit throughout that room and in the hall. Eldrin had been too groggy to notice if Gilan been there earlier- hopefully he had not heard the bottle shatter. He crept toward the stairs directly opposite the shrine.

 

“We need to talk. A letter from the Savils came yesterday,” his father said, straightening but not turning around, palms on his thighs. His graying hair was much shorter and tied back with a black ribbon. His robe was equally as ornate as Eldrin's own dress, but in muted reds and with stiff, flaring shoulders. Eldrin winced just as his hand touched the banister, but he turned and regarded his father's back with a neutral expression.

 

“Actually, I'm on my way to Uncle Narave's for breakfast. Could it wait, Father?”

 

“It's past noon, Eldrin,” Gilan Llethri said tiredly. He finally did turn to look at his son over his shoulder, his face lined and weary. He was in his early 60s. It was easy to tell that they were related: both had very straight noses a hair away from being upturned, and pointed, jutting chins in addition to the sharp cheekbones shared by most of their race. His father had deeply defined laugh lines, and it was clear Eldrin would probably have the same, someday. Eldrin had his mother's mouth, both lips fat and a little wide, the upper lip bow-shaped. His arching brows were clearly manicured and his widow's peak, again, was a trait of his mother's. He was twenty-five, but Eldrin could have passed for a few years younger.

 

“Ah. All the more reason I should hurry. Good-bye, Father!” Eldrin hauled himself up the stairs and out the front door, which was not far from the landing, without waiting for a reply. His uncle was not actually expecting him, but Eldrin knew that he was welcome any time.

 

The Llethri family- not to be confused with the family of Councilman Garisa Llethri who lived under-skar- made their home in the shell of a juvenile emperor crab in the manor district, just East of the massive adult which dominated Ald'Ruhn. If he stepped outside his family home Eldrin would be facing a large plaza encircled by manors similar to his, sun-bleached shells of varying species and maturity. Some were a bit bigger, some smaller, but all dwarfed the rounded mole crab and rock crab homes of the commoners, which he could see clustered like barnacles on the gently descending tiers if he looked down at the sprawling city on a clear day.

 

The people of Ald'Ruhn did not really have yards, although the manors were not crammed so closely to one another as they were in the poorer neighborhoods, and lines of scathecraw provided a visible border between some of the properties.

 

The cobblestone plaza and roads leading away from it were swept daily, but drifts of red sand would still have blown across the stone. Looking South, a statue of Vivec grappling with the Ruddy Man dominated the center of the plaza, and past that one could see the domed top of the Temple.

 

Eldrin winced at the sudden glaring light beating down from above as he stepped onto the street. It was a clear, relatively cloudless day, so Eldrin did not bother pulling the shawl over his face as he set off for his uncle's home, frowning. He could only buy himself so much time before he would have to face his father and discuss whatever was in that damned letter. He'd probably receive an earful for staying out so late as well, as if it were some sort of crime for a young man to go out celebrating with friends every now and again.

 

 

\---

 

He remembered nothing at all before the Font of Rebirth in Pinnacle Rock. Before that day he simply was not, and then he found himself lying naked on the cold cobbles under a distant gray ceiling, taking his first confused breath. He knew his name was Valka. He knew one or two other things, but they did not make sense of his situation.

 

“Up, get up!” A thin line of sharp-wrong-wet drew itself across his back, his first taste of pain, and he looked up and saw a violet-skinned woman in dark metal armor that barely covered her. She had a spear in one hand and a quirt in the other. She gave him a kick in the ribs and moved on to the next one. He climbed to his feet, looking around, and found that he was third in a row of many. Some looked more like her, and some looked more like what he saw when he looked down at himself, though they were in many shades from pale beige through pink through dark purple. He was a sort of middle tone of purple-gray. He had the same muscular naked body, the same height, the same build, as almost every male around him. A hand raised to his shoulder found that he had the same shoulder-length black hair as well.

 

“All right, listen closely, new ones.” She stood in front of them with hand on her hip, leaning on her spear, smiling with cheerful good-humor. They all looked about, trying to make sense of the walls of mossy stone and the strange blue fire in the braziers on the walls. There was a fountain in the center of the room, vividly green water falling into the deep pool from leaves of metal that faced the cardinal directions. Valka knew what leaves and metal and the cardinal directions were, apparently. That was mildly interesting. He did not know what the font was for, so he was staring at it as the woman went on talking.

 

“You are Mazken, servants of the Mad God Sheogorath. Our enemies are the Aureal, the golden-skinned rabble who so poorly represent the aspect of Mania. Those of you that are more fortunate are women, as I am. The rest are men. Men, you will do whatever a woman tells you, or you will suffer punishment, like this one.”

 

Valka looked up just in time to see the spear coming at his eye, and then agony flared in his head and there was nothing.

 

After nothing there was the Void. There was no sight, only feeling, only throbs of voice and sensation and the awareness of rapid movement. There were nexi of greater intensity – one speaking incomprehensible words, sonorous and strange; one that gave off the smell of blood and sweat and the sound of running feet; one whispering of bargains and promises; but the one that drew him was the sound of bright, mad laughter, happy threats and sad praise. Valka sped toward it and was drawn in, and gradually he became aware of density gathering around him,  of bones knitting one to the other and nerves weaving around them out of nothing at all.  It was agony until the muscles and flesh had finished creeping over them, and then that moment of stillness and relief gave way to the sensation of his lungs filling with water. He kicked and choked and flailed until his head broke the surface. He was back in the courtyard again, he realized. He climbed over the edge of the fountain and staggered to his feet.

 

“And that is what happens when you disobey,” the woman in the armor was saying. The other new Mazken stared at him. “Each time you make your way through the Void you will lose all rank, all status. This one is lucky that this happened on his first day, when he has nothing to lose. Of course if you die in Nirn this does not apply. Make sure that you do not give a superior cause to end your incarnation here in the Shivering Isles. You will be issued armor and a weapon through the doorway to my right, and then you will be trained. Praise be the Mad God.”

 

“Praise be the Mad God,” Valka repeated with the others. That was one of the things that he knew without having to be told.

 

It would turn out that, though he understood the holy daedric tongue to which he had been born, the spear and the sword were  _ not  _ things that he knew without being told. He was killed several more times in the process of being trained, sometimes for moving too slowly, only once for failing to obey fast enough.

 

They gave him armor of a sort. The boots and gauntlets were of heavy, ridged metal, almost black, with lighter polished areas on the ridges. He had pauldrons secured with a harness. He had a ridged helm with a sharply pointed nasal, somewhat the suggestion of a bird's crest. And then he had a layered metal corset, cold and stiff against his flesh. It did nothing at all to protect his chest and upper back, but at least it covered his intestines. A skirt of stiff, iridescent green fabric, pleated in the likeness of feathers, depended from the corset to cover the softer flesh of his genitals and buttocks over his padded green pants.

 

The first time he saw the yellow-gold sky he was almost killed for insubordination again because he stopped to stare at it. Colorful clouds streaked the dome above him. It was beautiful and strange after the stone world of the Wellspring. He had to scramble to get back into marching order with the other kiskengo.

 

It was a long walk to New Sheoth, and at first he was fascinated by everything, by plants, by creatures, by the occasional mortal they passed who stared or waved or said things that made no sense. That ended quickly in Crucible. The women were guards in the streets, the gates, the palace, smiling and speaking sweetly to the mad mortals of Nirn who came to live in the great city and eat and shit and sleep and do all of the other revolting, incomprehensible things that satisfied mortal needs. Gradually he learned to speak cheerfully to them as well, even as he learned to despise them for the weak and deranged creatures that they were. There was one woman who constantly walked the street with blood streaming from her cut wrists. Valka's first spell was taught him so that he would be able to heal her. He didn't need it explained to him what madness was. That one he understood.

 

It didn't take long to learn their languages. At least, it didn't seem long to Valka.

 

He talked back to one of the female guards once, when she reprimanded him for a crooked pauldron as he emerged from a sewer grate. He protested that he had been fighting elytra for hours, was covered in ichor, and she was worried about a pauldron? She tried to skewer him. He stabbed her in the head. The other men in his unit piled him under immediately for fear of the consequences. He was stabbed literally dozens of times before he died.

 

When he emerged from the pool again after that one it was a long walk back to Crucible, and they made him fight against some of the other men for the entertainment of the grakendo, the lowest rank of officers. He was allowed a knife. No clothes. His next few deaths were as part of this entertainment, but they grew less frequent as time went on. He learned not to show his next move on his face. He learned to watch out for the ones that could sprout wings without warning, a gift that he had not been given.  He learned to smile often . It unnerved some of the others.

 

After a while of this one of the grakendo, a tall peach-skinned Mazken called Selvig, had him transferred to her guard unit. She had a couple of other men as well, none ranked higher than kiskengo. By talking with them he learned that they, too, were winners in the game of courtyard dueling. Things were comparatively uneventful. He learned how to please Selvig, which was sometimes nice but more often was work; he patrolled twisted little side streets and collected bodies to chuck down the sewer, when the madmen fell out; he gave directions and broke up fights among the mortals as politely as possible.

 

He saw his first Aureal outside the city. He was seldom off-duty, but even the lowest-ranking male was allowed a day out of every ten to walk about or drink in a tavern or do more or less as he liked (unless Selvig had plans for him in  _ her  _ leisure time). He went out to walk by the lake that lay near the gates of Crucible, watching the sky change and darken above the mirrored surface of the water. And then a man with golden skin burst up out of the water, flinging droplets from his sodden golden hair, and tried to cut Valka's head off with the steaming blade of his longsword. Valka jerked away in time, and the longsword drew a line of freezing agony across his bare chest instead. The Mazken did a rapid tuck backward and threw one of his issued daggers underhand as he landed. It thudded into the other's arm where there was a gap in the armor, between pauldron and gauntlet.

 

“Why?” Valka demanded, backing away with his remaining dagger  held  at the guard. The blades were poisoned. He had been told poison did more harm to Aureal, but he had never connected that with the issued weapons until now. If it had been a mortal he would not have asked; some of them could breathe water without magic, and their actions would often not be explicable. But this creature in front of him had armor that he recognized as issued to the guards of Bliss, golden breastplate and pauldrons above a heavy mail skirt, layered greaves below, heavy boots. He must have been standing on the bottom, lying in wait.

 

“Shut up and die, Seducer,” the other said, grunting as he withdrew the dagger from his arm. Blood spurted around it. The wound steamed. His next swing at Valka was weak, wavering. “Your kind are a shame to the Madgod, and bringing back your weapon will bring me favor among my aurmokel.”

 

“Is an armokel like a grakendo?” He ducked under the Aureal's arm and found the seam of his cuirass, jabbing the dagger in as hard as he cold. The Aureal gasped in pain and shoved him away.

 

“Yes, damn you! It's the same rank! And now you've killed me, you... bastard...” His eyes rolled upward as the second dose of poison did its work, and he slumped back into the water.

 

Valka stood there staring at the body as it slowly sank from view, setting sun glinting gorgeously on the golden surfaces. Then he collected the longsword and took it back to Selvig. That was how he gained the rank of kiskella. After that things were better, for a while. With the change in rank he gained another day off out of every ten, and he was allowed to be part of the lower strata of the guard rotas, walking aboveground under the sky. He kept no track of time beyond that cycle. There were no seasons and there were no months or years, and only the highest ranking scholars of either race of servants of Sheogorath were aware of the distant past or the problematic future.

 

And then one day he met a mage.

 

He was aware that there were mortals who could, in their own ineffectual way, cast spells or study magic, and that for some this was their form of worship to the Mad God. He heard summoning whispered as, alternately, a dreadful fate or a serious annoyance, though he had no clear idea what that was. So when a mortal of the ash-skinned race (Dunmer, he thought they were called) stopped him to ask politely for his name, he gave it without a second thought. The mer was robed in velvet, which was not so unusual, though it was less usual how clean and kept he seemed. Valka chatted with him for a few minutes about the weather; then he wandered off, and Valka went back to patrolling.

 

An hour later he was climbing the stairs toward the higher districts of the city when the world suddenly warped around him. There was a sensation of rapid movement without sight, and then his knee slammed into a wooden floor and he knelt in a dark room. He was aware of a will contending with his, of power enclosing and smothering him, and he fought it with all of his might. He could see enough of the other mind to realize it was a mortal creature, and to yield readily to that insult would be not only unacceptable but unforgivable. He was even beginning to gain ground when a blast of ice struck his unprotected chest, knocking him back, leaving him arched and screaming in agony. In that moment all resistance broke, and he knew himself the slave of that other will. He rolled his head to see the source of his torment, the Dunmer he had seen earlier. The mer smiled at him, hand still upraised with a few flakes of ice drifting from his fingers to the floor.

 

“I bind you,” he said. “By your name I call you, Valka, and to it you shall answer. In Oblivion you are your own master; in Nirn you will obey the wielder of this artifact.”

 

The Mazken scrambled to his feet, hands reaching for his daggers, and then froze as the other will clamped him in place like an insect under a boot. Furious eyes uplifted, he saw that the other mer held a ring made of dark metal in his other hand, twisted into strands like the roots of a tree.

 

“I bind you,” repeated the Dunmer, this time in the daedric tongue. He repeated the rest of the binding ritual, pointing at Valka with his empty hand. Valka felt the power gathering between them, the tingle of threatened frost in the air. He was still in pain from the burns of ice on his body, shuddering in the cold that was now part of him, not part of the room.

 

“By my name I am called,” he finally gasped out. “And to it I shall answer. In Oblivion I am my own master. In Nirn I will obey.”

 

“Dismissed!” said the mage, and the world seemed to implode as his body dissolved into sparks, and then he was back in the City from whence he had come. Returning from Nirn did not force him back to the Wellspring.

 

He would be grateful for that often in the coming years. The Dunmer, whose name proved to be Kerghed Hazzfanal, summoned him again and again, sometimes to perform tasks whose import he did not understand - “hold this, carry that, be still in this circle no matter the pain” -  to suffer the torment of the dissection frame,  or to fight other mortals for  his master . He grew to recognize the blue skies and gray clouds of Nirn with hatred, to know the moons of this alien place by name, to count the scant stars that wheeled above their dwellings made of mud and dead animals. And when he returned to the great City he would be back at the same moment he had left, in the same place.

 

After some time had passed summonings grew less frequent, and Kerghed began to look stranger and stranger, his face heavy with sagging skin, his voice creaking like a ship under sail. And then the summoning stopped. Presumably the mortal had died. Valka felt only relief. He walked the streets of New Sheoth again without fear of having his magicka suddenly drained, of being thrown into some ruin to fight a daedroth, of being dropped in front of some mortal in a robe or pitiful weak armor and ordered to kill for reasons that he was never told.

 

And then the ring fell into other hands after all...

 

\---

 

Zulkan Narave sat in a chair near his dining room hearth, sipping mazte-and-water from a clay cup. He was never without one of the heavy brown jugs near him. It was cut four to one, the uncut liquor smeared around the lip of jug and cup to intensify the scent, but no one else would know that. 

 

The room had a high, curved ceiling, and the crackle of the fire seemed loud, causing the table and the chairs and Zulkan to cast strange shadows even at this time of day. The windows were heavy, opaque green glass, usually shut to keep out the sand. There was a vestibule through a doorway to his left, lit by blue paper lanterns, that also led to the library and a stairway up to the bedrooms. The manor was a lot for one man and two slaves. It had once held several more, and he and Salla had hoped for children. His fortunes had been better, back then. His hands had been steadier, and people had been proud to own jewelry made by him. His Skar-shaped amulets had been popular for literally years.

 

But no children had come – they had argued bitterly over whose fault that was – and then Salla had died of a seemingly incurable blight, taking from his life a major source of annoyance but also of stability. There had been nothing to keep him from the bottle. He'd lost most of her dowry over time, and by the time he had come to his senses it was almost too late.

 

He was nearly clean now, living on a thin trickle of mazte instead of glass after glass of cyrodilic brandy, and he sold the odd bit of wedding jewelry or harness decoration to those who remembered his name.

 

He was a mer of above the middle age, hook-nosed, high in the cheekbones, broad in the jaw. He was less in height and breadth of shoulder than those of the house of Llethri, his late sister's husband's people, but aside from a small bulge around the midriff and a certain heaviness about the eyes he was passable. His thin red hair was folded carelessly into a bun at the back of his head. There was no resemblance between him and his nephew at all. Still, he enjoyed Eldrin's visits. They brought him a sort of hope. He turned the black metal ring slowly in his left hand, musing as he waited. Breakfast was back in the kitchen being kept warm near the fire. The kwama eggs would be a bit rubbery when Eldrin finally did arrive, but however huffy La'zira and Bakes-Fine-Breads got over that, Zulkan would remain patient.

 

Someone was tapping at the door. He could hear the Argonian slave's feet scuffing rapidly as she scooted downstairs from making the beds. She was a sturdy girl, brown-scaled and homely with her short and toothy muzzle, but she was good at taking care of this big house with little help. “She is coming, coming!”

 

Eldrin closed his eyes and rubbed at his nose after knocking. His head still hurt a little and he was fighting to keep the growing dread at bay.  _ Stop worrying about it. Father will lecture for an hour and then it'll be over. Why is that such a big deal? _ Then the door opened and Eldrin dropped his hand to his side.

 

“Hello, Bakes-Fine-Breads,” he said, briefly glancing at the Argonian's eyes and then forward. He walked in without waiting to be invited and removed his shawl, holding it out for her to take. “Uncle is around?” But Eldrin was already heading for the dining room before an answer came.

 

"Good morning, Master Eldrin! Yes, he waits in the dining room - ah." She took the shawl and shut the door as he vanished from view. To be unnoticed by young Eldrin was generally a blessing, in her opinion. She hurried to the kitchen to wait for the bell.

 

Zulkan looked up as he heard voices. He did not have to force a smile as he tucked the ring into the pocket of his loose trousers. They were of serviceable blue cotton printed with white vines near the hems. His tunic, loose-sleeved and gathered at the wrists, was gray linen. Only the broad sash around his waist was particularly fine, made of brown silk that gleamed sullenly as it reflected the firelight. He owned finer things, but he didn't often bother dressing up these days.

 

He stood up as Eldrin came in, setting the cup aside. "Good afternoon, my boy. Have you eaten, are you hungry?"  He could see from the younger mer's face that he did not yet know what was coming. Either his father had been a coward, or perhaps he had not stayed to listen.

 

Eldrin smiled broadly as he came in and moved toward the hearth. He pulled out a chair from the table as he went, to put beside his Uncle's before clasping the older mer's arm. Then he spun it around and sat down backwards, arms crossed over the back of the chair.

 

“Good afternoon. Thank you, Uncle, but I don't think lunch would agree with me just now. It's quite lovely and clear outside today.  Have you stepped outside?” Eldrin would have enjoyed it himself if the sun hadn't seemed so blindingly bright to his eyes. It was likely that they would only have that cloudless sky for a few hours before an ash storm set in.

 

“What, hung over again?” Zulkan asked mildly, resuming his seat. “I'd be sorry to see you end up like me, Eldrin. I went for a walk this morning. La'zira's planted some fireflowers in the old bed on the East side. Salla's old scathecraw finally gave up the ghost, so I thought she wouldn't mind.” He laid an arm over the back of the chair, slumping slightly in his seat. “Have you spoken with your father yet today?”

 

Eldrin waved a dismissive hand without uncrossing his arms, still smiling.

 

“I could do far worse than to end up like you,” he said affably. The idea of winding up an alcoholic widower with no great deeds to his name and only slaves to warm his bed was disheartening, but there truly were worse fates. Considering Eldrin's current trajectory, it might be an improvement.

 

The smile dropped off and he looked seriously at Zulkan, lips pressed in a tight line.

 

“Not really,” he said. “Why? I'm assuming he's about to tell me I'm to marry that Savil girl. You know she's from house Oreyn? Imperial-bedding pigs, the lot of them. If I have to suffer a wife, at least let it be a Redoran woman.” He sounded very bitter, but Eldrin didn't raise his voice. He looked away from his uncle's face, into the fire. He continued sullenly, “Her family owns several ebony mines, that's all it is. Father is a fool if he thinks  _ he'll _ see any of the profit from  _ that _ .”

 

“Is there someone else you have in mind?” Zulkan asked. “I've seen the Savil girl. She's pretty enough, maybe seems a little dull in company.”

 

“No,” Eldrin responded immediately, a little harshly. Then he sighed, releasing the ugliness from his face and voice. He looked away from the fire, the room suddenly very dark and blotted in comparison.

 

“Why speak of these things? There's nothing I can do. My father would shoot down any suggestion of mine if the match was not something he considered beneficial.” He shrugged. His smile was easy but not genuine. Perhaps someday soon he would finally pass the trials to join the Armigers and then he'd be campaigning far away from whatever stupid nagging wife his father set him up with. “But let's speak of pleasant things, shall we? I come here to forget that drama.”

 

“Of course. I have something to give you, in fact.” Zulkan dug in his pocket for the ring and held it up in his hand. It caught the firelight strangely, the metal almost oily. Green and purple highlights shifted across the surface in any indirect illumination. Touching it for long raised the hairs on Zulkan's neck.

 

“It belonged to Sella's grandfather, and her mother had it after he died – he seemed to think it was awfully important, but his mind was nearly gone by that point. Old Kerghed was a mage, you know. Made the family's fortune with the things he found in the old daedric ruins, but he was always a bit mad. Sella always thought it was enspelled, but she couldn't even use the things I made, and I am no enchanter.” He held it out.  “I'm afraid the writing inside the band is too small for me to read, or it's some foreign script.  Either way, it was dear to her, and I’d rather you have it than some stranger”

 

Eldrin sat upright, holding out his palm for the ring.

 

“Why, thank you!” he said. Eldrin did not expect that the ring was anything special, but this was a gift, and one that had meaning to the older mer. That judgment quickly changed, however, when he turned it in his fingers and squinted at the writing. Part of it was in Daedric, which he couldn't read, but the phrase in Dunmeris was obviously a summons: _I call_ _Valka._

 

“It's a ring of summoning!” Eldrin said excitedly, closing it in his fist and looking up at Zulkan with wonder. “It's a daedra called Valka. Could it be a dremora, do you think? I'm really not so sure you should be giving this to me-- it must be worth a fortune.” Yes, he was even more sure of its purpose as he spoke. Eldrin could feel power from the ring even as he held it in his palm.

 

“The truth is that I can't bear to keep it,” Zulkan said quietly. “She – she wore it every day.” He looked aside into the fire for a moment, reaching for the cup. A solid pull at the mazte remedied his apparent loss of composure. “And anyway, don't get too excited. It might be a scamp, or an imp, or some lesser creature. Nobody really knows. Oh, and I'm sending home a brick to go under your mattress, keep your feet warm. I know it gets drafty in that big place at night.” He reached for a bell on the mantelpiece and rang it. “La'zira will bring it. There's not much magicka left in these old hands, but I can keep a brick warm.”

 

Eldrin nodded, watching his uncle with sympathy.

 

“Whatever it turns out to be, I promise the ring will stay in my hands until my dying day,” he said very seriously. He slipped it onto the ring finger of his right hand, acutely aware of the hair-raising prickle that shuddered up his arm. His friends weren't going to believe this! He grinned at the thought of watching everyone fawn over it.  _ No one  _ his age kept a daedric servant.

 

He winced internally at the mention of a brick, but his face never lost its pleased and expectant composure. He knew that it would be futile to tell Zulkan that the temperature in his room was actually very pleasant. Eldrin's gentle protests never did stop his uncle from sending him home with some asinine thing that would end up in the back of his closet, like the sun hat with frost shield or the fortifying boots of slowness. He did not feel comfortable asking why those enchantments, but Eldrin figured years of alcoholism were to blame, and he didn't want to embarrass the man.

 

The Khajiit that appeared was very pretty, buxom and healthy with cream-colored fur speckled with light brown. She wore her brown mane of hair tied back with white ribbons, not an entirely standard addition to the plain gray robes of a maid that she shared with the Argonian. She carried a basket in both hands, bouncing cheerfully. From long experience Zulkan suspected Eldrin saw her as no more likely a sex object than the brick. Many Dunmer saw betmer as literally animals. His way of thinking was more along the lines that if an animal talked, and said yes, and had bouncing jugs the size of melons...

 

“He is ready for Master Eldrin's foot-warmer, yes yes?” her voice was a soprano warble.

 

Normally Eldrin had to force himself not to frown at La'zira, but now his appreciative grin was large and genuine. The ring, at least, had to be something useful. Something powerful! He couldn't wait to try it out. If the price for the artifact was feigning gratitude for a brick, the price was too low.

 

“Right, then,” Zulkan said. “Don't summon it in here, it might break the crockery. Off you go, boy.” The Khajiit demurely handed him the basket – its weight was certainly heavy enough for it to be a brick – and brought him his shawl at the door.

 

“Young Master has a good day!”

 

She waved.

 

Zulkan had another drink, sighing. He hated to do it, but it had to be done. He had prepared for so long. Hopefully Eldrin would actually get the thing into his own room. It didn't have to actually be in the bed to do its work.


	2. Chapter 2

Eldrin was too excited to think about the fact that Zulkan had practically shoved him out the door after a very brief visit. He lugged the basket back with him, thinking once or twice of stopping in front of someone's house and dumping the contents into one of the tall ceramic urns used for refuse. But there were too many people outside enjoying the weather, and all of the neighbors knew Eldrin's name. He didn't fancy giving people a reason to talk.

 

Eldrin came quietly into the foyer. The steps to the lower level were directly in front of him, a door to the dining room and the kitchen beyond to his right, the master bedroom to the left. He set the basket gingerly down by the door and moved toward the dining room. He saw Tsamabi, a mouse gray little Khajiit with a lighter undercoat, cleaning dishes through the open door to the kitchen. Her ears flicked back and she glanced up before returning her eyes to her work when she heard him approach.

 

“Tsamabi. Is my father here?” he asked. The slave jolted upright, ears turning forward. She moved her gaze on the floor.

 

“No, Muthsera, he went out just a few minutes ago.”

 

Eldrin grunted and turned. He picked up the basket on his way back and ran downstairs to his room, no longer making an effort to walk quietly. He shut the door behind himself and nearly threw the basket down by the door, grinning hugely in anticipation. He held out his splayed palm in front of himself, staring at the ring, watching the color shift as he tilted his hand just slightly.

 

“I call Valka!”

 

\---

 

It was the first time Valka had seen Cylarne. The ruin was vast, sprawling across acres of terrain atop a broad hill. Trees grew high within and without the walls, some red and shedding leaves, some green and putting forth new shoots beneath the seasonless pale sky. The construction of the remaining stonework was square, hard-angled, the walls decorated with a plain border that had once been geometric squares, now worn mostly to ovals.

 

It was quiet now. There were periods of greater offensives, of clashing armies charging head-on. Of late the army of the Mazken had been trying other tactics. Valka crept from shadow to shadow with daggers in hand, aware of the other Mazken around him only as other creeping shadows in the peripheries of his vision. The wind blew gently through the leaves, ruffling the skirt of his armor. To be sent here to fight the Aureal in this eternal battle was a great privilege. He was not sure if he had a patron, or if he had simply been selected as the ranking male guard with the fewest recent deaths. No one who was not an officer was allowed to remain here for long at one time. Nobody he had dared ask knew why.

 

There was a scuff from up ahead of him, a boot in the dry leaves behind an archway. A tree with orange and yellow leaves had half-topped the top of the structure, casting heavy shadows with its spreading branches.

 

Aureal were impatient creatures. It was well known. Valka breathed very slowly as he stepped forward, every contact of his boots with the ground slow and measured.

 

Another scuff from off to the right. They thought they were waiting in ambush. He circled the tree so, so slowly, every step seconds long, and was eventually rewarded with a sigh and another scuff. He leaned gradually to one side, one eye past the trunk.

 

An Aureal in their traditional armor stood leaning on her spear, facing across the gate opening. There was another golden warrior across the gateway on the other side. Their armor covered more than a Mazken's armor, but it was also heavier, making them slower.

 

Well, if they were going to make it easy...

 

Valka opened his left hand toward the one across the way, releasing his second spell. Magicka oscillated under his skin and coalesced to become a burst of purple magicka hurled at the Aureal. He did not wait to watch the result as he took a swift, silent step forward and seized the helmet of the one in front of him. He tipped it forward just enough to drive the dagger into the soft place at the base of her skull, in and out in an instant. She died with almost no sound, a soft rattle in her throat. Before the body had fallen he was halfway to the other one. She struggled to raise her spear, suddenly dragged down by the intolerable weight of his spell of burden. She was still grimacing in his face as he cut her throat.

 

He collected both their spears before the bodies had time to dissolve into nothing, wiping his daggers on the padding of their cuirasses. Then he squatted by the doorway and leaned back the way he had come to whistle two notes. He heard running feet as other Mazken came forward to claim the objective. A kiskengo – tiny markings on her pauldron indicated her rank - grinned at him briefly as she spotted the two spears in his hand. She clapped a hand to his shoulder.

 

“Well, look at you. Go on back and get those recorded, Kiskella. Let the women have a turn.” She winked at him. Not for one moment did it occur to him that he technically outranked her,  or that what she said was intensely patronizing . That wasn't how it worked.

 

“Yes, Ma'am.” He bowed deeply and made his way back toward the outpost where their mages and the ranking grakella of his unit waited. It was a fine day, cool breeze blowing through the leaves. Two confirmed Aureal dead was not a bad way to start -

 

He dropped the spears as a familiar and horrible sensation gripped him. The world was dissolving around him.  _ No! I was free! _

 

His feet struck something harder than the leafy ground as the world coalesced around him.  _ Dimmer, bluer light. Carpet underfoot, circle of cushions around a glass device of strange purpose,furnishings for holding clothing, and the greatest concession to mortal weakness, the bed. Scattered pillows and blankets, sybaritic in their riotous colors. _

 

_ Blue-skinned slender creature in front of him: Dunmer. _

 

Valka snapped his heels together and his hands behind his back as he surveyed the holder of the ring. He strove against the enchantment silently and in vain, muscles quivering with effort inside the limited protection of his armor. He was noticeably taller than the mer in front of him, six feet two inches tall and  about two hundred pounds  of sculpted muscle.  There was no expression on his face.

 

Eldrin's trembling fingers dropped to the hilt of his weapon, heart jumping in his chest. He stared with wide-eyed fascination, and some fear, at the creature that appeared before him. He was momentarily confused, trying to place the species.

 

“A male seducer?” he said stupidly.

 

Valka could  _ feel  _ the mortal will on the other side of the ring's power. It would have been so easy to escape, nothing to the mind that had trapped him for so long! He could have slaughtered the useless gaping thing in seconds if the enchantment had not bound him fast. The very air of this place assaulted his nostrils with a bizarre cocktail of odors, only some of them originating from the bottles and jars over by the mirror. He knew about the mortal fixation with mirrors. They were for wasting time confirming what you already knew, or trying to convince yourself of something that was not true.

 

He was not constrained to answer until verbally ordered to do so, but instant and overt disobedience was not the Mazken way. He forced himself to relax slightly, shifting one foot a little to one side to widen his stance. His voice when he spoke was a pleasant middle-range tenor, euphonious and full of good-humored politeness.

 

“I am of the Mazken race, yes. How will I serve you?”

 

Eldrin laughed. He suddenly felt very jittery, crossing his arms over his chest and moving to circle around the daedra. He felt light and springy on his toes.

 

“I haven't decided yet! B'vek, that armor doesn't cover very much of you, does it?”

 

“It does not,” Valka said affably.

 

“I guess injuries mean nothing to your kind. Do you even feel pain? How long does this summons last?” He stopped in front of the daedra again, hands dropping to clasp behind his back. His eyes moved over Valka appraisingly. It was a little eerie how person-like the thing was. The eyes were especially unnerving, too vibrant a shade of green against black sclera.

 

Those eyes moved to follow him as he walked, though Valka did not turn as the mortal circled him. He was obviously being looked over in much the same way an officer would do, and turning would be uncooperative. He was cautiously optimistic that the appraisal was not sexual. Mortal touch was generally repellant to him. He remembered the old mage's hands as very cold even when they weren't holding a knife. The madmen of New Sheoth were grubby, sweaty, clammy, very rarely clean and warm.

 

“I am able to feel pain. If you do not choose to dismiss me, either by name or by uttering the word 'Dismissed,' the summons will not expire.” He was able to lie until ordered otherwise, but lying about that would probably just provoke the mer to test it by torturing him physically, and he didn't want that capacity to become obvious yet.

 

Eldrin couldn't believe his ears. How much must this ring be worth? Fifty thousand gold? A hundred thousand? Whatever it might be, the value of a Mazken servant who could never truly die was greater.

 

“You don't need to eat or sleep, do you,” Eldrin said, mostly to himself. 

 

“I do not,” Valka agreed patiently.

 

“Really, you're the perfect body guard, aren't you? Ever vigilant, never tiring. Is that what your previous master used you for?”

 

“Kerghed Hazzfanal sometimes did have me accompany him as a bodyguard. I also assisted him with his research. He didn't like to use mortal assistants.” Mortal death was so bizarrely singular and permanent. It was difficult to understand why the daedra princes coveted the worship of these creatures so desperately when their only advantage over daedra seemed to be the ability to carnally reproduce themselves.

 

“Hmm,” was all Eldrin said, staring intently at the tapestry hanging on the other side of the room without seeing it, a bound Saint Roris enduring the stabbing pikes of a crowd of Argonians. The Mazken was certainly polite, even helpful in his answers. Eldrin had the pleasure of having met Anhaedra, the Dremora at the Mar Gan temple. It was very clear that if that daedra could manage to escape his metaphysical bonds for even a moment, anyone unfortunate enough to be within arms reach of him would be dead. Was this creature the same, waiting for his chance, for some loophole that would allow him to interpret his orders in an advantageous way?

 

“I dismiss you, Valka,” Eldrin said, needlessly waving his hand at the Mazken.  The daedra evaporated soundlessly into sparks.   Then he turned to go out. He did not think his father had any books on the topic of daedra, but a Temple priest would surely be able to answer his questions.  

 

\---

 

From Valka's perspective the world dissolved again, and he was back in the stony shadows of Cylarne, two spears at his feet as the breeze caressed his face. As usual, no time seemed to have elapsed in the Isles while he was summoned. He gathered up his trophies and took them to be recorded, sullenly aware that his time was no longer his own. And now he was possessed by... What? Who? No wizard, that much was obvious. The creature's garb had been richer, more luxurious, the surroundings had been a bedchamber and not a tower or ruin.

 

He might as well make the best use of his time while he could. He accepted the officer's curt commendation and in turn accepted the order to return to the battlefield. He would hunt Aureals through the shade for a while longer yet, he hoped. There was always the chance his mortal master would die or the ring would be lost or stolen.

 

\---

 

The priestess Eldrin spoke to at the Temple was deeply troubled that a boy his age had summoned a Mazken, one of the more powerful daedra and one associated with the House of Troubles to boot. She tried to convince him to donate the ring to the Temple, which was very irritating. But she did answer his questions - as he suspected, the creature was capable of lying. All daedra hated mortals regardless of how they might act, and Eldrin ought to be wary, the priestess warned. Then she loaned him a book about conjured creatures and Eldrin looked it over while getting lunch at a tavern - anything to delay meeting his father, who was probably home by now - but the book didn't really say anything the priestess hadn't.

 

He trudged back with the book under his arm, organizing his thoughts. He'd been acting too much like an excited little boy opening a present the first time he met Valka. The Mazken had to respect him.

 

Tsamabi was out at the side of the house beating a carpet. She looked up meekly when she saw the mer coming.

 

“Master Eldrin, his father wishes-”

 

“Yes, I know,” Eldrin growled at her without stopping. Inside, he went below to his room. The bed had been made, the laundry taken out, and the basket holding the brick had been placed on the bottom of the shelf by the breakfast table. He flopped the book down on the table and stood in the center of the room again.

 

“I call Valka,” Eldrin said, standing up tall with his hands clasped behind his back, face perfectly neutral. He waited until the dark shape of the Mazken had fully coalesced before him, and looked directly into those vibrant eyes.

 

“I didn't introduce myself before,” Eldrin said. “I am Redoran Eldrin Llethri, your new master. You will answer only to me, and you will never harm me nor any other person unless I expressly give permission for you to do so. You will always speak truthfully to me. Do you understand?”

 

Valka was in process of looting the corpse of another Aureal when he felt the summoning grip him again. He straightened up, golden spear vanished from his hand, to find himself in the same bedroom that he had first seen. This time the Dunmer looked right up at him with those peculiar red-on-red eyes, and spoke as if he took the summoning seriously.

 

_ Madgod curse him. _

 

“I understand,” Valka said, still outwardly calm and polite. Inwardly he felt the words sink in around his mind like a new shackle, binding him yet more tightly. “How will I address my new master?”

 

“Master Eldrin will be fine,” he said, and couldn't help the smug, satisfied smile that broke across his lips. “Do you hate me?”

 

“Yes, Master Eldrin,” Valka said, the words forced from his lips, his eyes narrowed slightly with the failed attempt to resist. “Passionately.”

 

Eldrin laughed. Valka was just like the betmer, hating their station in life but powerless to rail against their betters. It felt  _ damn good _ to know he where he sat in the order of things.

 

There was a knock at the door and Eldrin turned, letting his face settle back into neutrality. As he expected, his father was there when he opened it, and Gilan Llethri jolted like he was having a heart attack when his eyes landed on the imposing figure of the Mazken just standing there in his son's bedroom.

 

“Almsivi! What is going on!?” Gilan gasped, one hand slapping over his chest.

 

“Father, Uncle Zulkan gifted me this ring of summoning,” he said evenly, raising his hand to show the ring. “It belonged to Aunt Sella, although no one knew what it did before now. Can you believe they were just sitting on this all these years?” He looked back at the Mazken. “Valka, this is my father, Gilan Llethri.” He thought of ordering the creature to obey his father as well, but decided against it. Valka would be his alone.

 

“From now on, Valka is my body guard.”

 

Gilan scowled, tearing his eyes away from the daedra to narrow them at his son.

 

“You're going to get yourself killed, or someone else killed.” Eldrin could tell from his father's tone that he was due for a lecture, and there was no need for that to happen in front of Valka.

 

“Valka, dismissed,” he said without turning, dropping his hand to join the other behind his back. 

 

Valka surveyed the elder Dunmer with only the mildest interest once it became clear Eldrin wasn't ordering him to kill. So this was his mortal master's physical progenitor. He supposed they looked somewhat alike, always a very strange notion. He was glad enough to be sent away. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Eldrin’s father appeared momentarily startled by the shower of sparks, but then he glared at Eldrin again, leaning his hand on the doorjamb.

 

“ Zulkan shouldn't have given you that, and he'll be hearing from me about it.” He saw Eldrin's mouth twitch open, but Gilan held up a palm. “Shut up, Eldrin. You've been running wild for too long. Iluni Savil's parents accepted your marriage proposal. The date is six months from now. You have until then to figure out what you're going to do with yourself. Apply at the council hall, the Ordinators,  _ something _ \--”

 

“Become an Ordinator!” Eldrin blurted, enraged, fists clenching and moving to his sides.

 

“Yes,” Gilan snapped, stabbing an accusing finger toward his son's face with the hand that was not against the jamb. “I know you think you're better than that, but you're not. You're finished wasting my gold on this...  This lifestyle! How many times have you failed the exams to join the Buoyant Armigers? If you didn't spend so much time drinking and carrying on like a damned fool..!”

 

Eldrin's entire face was twitching, brows scrunched, lips pressed tightly together to keep from forming into a snarl. A vein was standing out on his forehead.  _ 'MY' marriage proposal?! MINE? _

 

“If you haven't figured something out on your own by the time of the wedding, you'll be going to the Temple seminary in Almas Thirr. I've already looked into it.”

 

“The mainland! Father, I can't-”

 

“That's enough! I'm ashamed to have raised a son who talks back to me so flippantly. I shouldn't have gone so soft on you after your mother - Never mind. I've said what I needed to say. You had better take this seriously, Eldrin. Think of your House. Think of your family. Think of anyone but yourself for once.” His father whirled angrily, robes fluttering, and then he was gone up the stairs.

 

Eldrin stood in front of the doorway, seething with gritted teeth and breathing heavily through flaring nostrils for what seemed like a very long time. He became aware of pain in his palms from his own nails digging in. He uncurled his fists and gently shut the door before sinking into a chair at the table. His hands clenched on the armrests, every muscle of his body rigid.

 

Everything his father had said buffeted his mind like a tornado of ash, words playing back over and over again and overlaid with others until the cacophony nearly drowned out any thoughts of his own. The rage was still building although Eldrin sat perfectly still, glaring at nothing in particular. He was aware of nothing around him, only a sinking in his gut, as if he'd swallowed a ball of cold lead.

 

After a while he finally got up to check the lockbox under his bed. He still had about two thousand drakes, and he had things he could sell if he absolutely had to. His father had threatened to cut him off before, but this time he really seemed serious. Eldrin sat kneeling, absently chewing a thumbnail. What was he going to do?

 

_ You'll marry Iluni, be sent away to Almas Thirr, and never see your friends again. Then, if you're lucky, you'll end up some kind of clerk in an office. Either that or it's healing infected boils for the rest of your life. It'll be a loveless marriage spent sleeping in separate beds. Both of you will probably fuck other people and pretend not to know about it. You'll never amount to anything in life, but you won't disgrace your family or your House. You'll die quietly in your sleep, unremembered and unmourned. _

 

He exhaled heavily through his nose and scooped some of the gold from the box into his coin purse before shutting and locking it. If Eldrin was resigning himself to that dreary life, why not go out with a bang?

 

He went over to the mirror to comb, then braid his hair in two tails that hung on either side of his face, the rest of it loose. Then he rubbed lotion on his face and hands and picked out a ring to wear on his other hand, an ebony scarab with rubies marking the spots on its carapace. He spent a little time searching for stray hairs that didn't belong, and then he was ready to go.

 

The door to the antechamber leading to the master bedroom was open and Eldrin saw his father sitting at his desk from the corner of his eye, but he carried through with his nose up, and Gilan didn't say anything. He just sighed and returned to the report he'd been reading.

 

It should've been close to twilight but the sky was pitch black with ash when Eldrin stepped out. He quickly arranged his shawl over his nose and leaned into the storm, wind ripping at his hair and clothes. He had to cover his eyes with a hand and walk squinting all the way to the Cat's Paw Cornerclub. Ash had blanketed the road, but he knew the way by the dark shapes looming on either side of himself, and here and there were paper lanterns flapping around on poles that hadn't yet been snuffed out by the wind. It was not a very long walk, as the Cornerclub was still in his neighborhood.

 

To be inside was a relief. The door banged shut behind him and Eldrin stood shaking ash out of his clothes for a moment. The main room with the bar was just a few short steps up to a raised platform, brightly lit with hanging lanterns, or he could continue down to the lower level. Eldrin went down into the dimly lit basement, to music and laughter and air hazy with smoke. It was already busy, most tables full with people Eldrin's own age or younger. A trio of Dunmer musicians were playing on a little raised platform near the stairs. Most everyone was Dunmer. It was seriously frowned upon for humans or betmer to be here, although other species of elves were tolerated.

 

Five people from Eldrin's clique were already there, at two square tables pushed together near the back. More would probably be arriving later. Most of them couldn't rightfully be called “friends.” They were wealthy people advantageous for Eldrin to know. Some of them he genuinely liked. The others were annoyances he had to tolerate, either because they were a friend to someone else in the group, or they had powerful parents, or they knew someone else Eldrin would like to know someday.

 

Teris Rothalen was there now, laughing and pounding the table at something someone had said. He was what Eldrin would consider his best friend. Teris noticed Eldrin approaching and grinned crookedly. He stood abruptly, chair clanking against the wall, and leaned forward with his hands on the table. The movement almost knocked over a glass but someone more sober grabbed it just in time.

 

“Eldrin! Eldrin! I'm glad you came!” Teris exclaimed. He was a few years younger than Eldrin and he dressed better, came from an obviously wealthier family. He did not keep his red hair in any particular style. It wasn't longer than his ears and seemed to flop where it liked, yet somehow Teris never looked disheveled. The others looked up and said their hellos less colorfully.

 

“Hello, hello. I'm glad to be here. Sit down, you fool,” Eldrin said, grinning back at his friend. He took a seat at the side of the table, the back wall to his right and the rest of the open space to his left. Teris followed his friend's advice, flopping down and pouring himself another glass of sujamma. There were several big bottles of various liquors on both tables, some of them already empty.

 

“I've got something to show you all,” Eldrin said, pulling his shawl over his head to fold it over the back of his chair. He brushed down his hair with his hand, yet more ash falling to the floor.

 

“Ooh, what is it?” the woman on his left, Tirele, asked, leaning forward with her arms crossed on the table. Her eyes looked a bit unfocused, but she wasn't nearly as drunk as Teris, who was already pouring himself yet another drink after slugging down the last. Eldrin kicked Teris under the table so that he would pay attention.

 

“Look!” He turned in his seat, gesturing toward the empty space between tables. The others at the table were conversing among themselves, not really paying attention, but they would be soon. “Are you ready for this? I call Valka.”

 

To Valka it seemed like a very short time before he was called back again, barely time to register another spear.

 

He was in a new location this time, a hot room with a low ceiling, full of people and color and noise and smoke. There was a layered scent of chemicals and burning, like an alchemist's laboratory, and some more devices like the one Eldrin had in his room. They were pipes for some sort of recreational drug, it looked like. Well, that was not unknown in the Isles. Among mortals. And the occasional unlucky daedra who became part of an experiment. The tang of alcohol stung his nostrils on top of all the rest.

 

People were staring at him. He turned to find Eldrin at a table nearby, obviously enjoying himself a great deal.

 

“Master Eldrin,” he said pleasantly, as his guts churned with loathing. “How will I serve?”

 

Everything suddenly stopped. The music halted jarringly. Voices trailed off and stilled. Eldrin smirked and leaned casually back in his chair, crossing one leg over his knee.

 

At a table not far off, a Bosmer in a very fine yellow silk robe stared, huge-eyed. Gellesir wore her blond hair dressed in a high roll that fountained into little curls at the top, and the robe was mostly open from collarbones to just above the navel, revealing a great deal of silky freckled skin. She was leaning on the arm of her current mark, a boy about half her age (had he but known it) whose clothes were as fine as his brain was small. He was reasonably handsome, although less so at the moment, when he was gawping with all the rest at Eldrin Llethri's summoned daedra.

 

How had he ever done it? Eldrin was no wizard, or he could've maybe had a career in magery instead of being about to, if rumor was true, get married off or thrown out of the house or both. It had to be some kind of scroll or artifact. Gellesir narrowed her eyes, trying to scan his appearance for anything suspiciously new.

 

“Merciful Three!” Teris shouted, blinking up at the Mazken. “Someone tell me this thing isn't real?!” Tirele had turned in her chair to look behind at the creature, hand clasped over her mouth. She pressed herself fearfully back against the table, rattling the bottles.

 

“You're not drunk enough to be seeing things, are you?” Eldrin laughed. “You're fine as you are, Valka, unless you know any party tricks?” The music resumed, and slowly the chatter from other tables did too, although Eldrin was still gleefully aware of many faces turned in his direction. He caught the eye of a barmaid on the other side of the room, staring transfixed like everyone else was, and Eldrin waved a finger at her. She shook herself and turned to go back upstairs.

 

“I don't know any party tricks, Master Eldrin,” Valka said, managing to make his tone carry the slightest hint of friendly apology. “Party” and “tricks” were both words that he knew, and in the Isles both of those words had an amazing variety of meanings ranging from “tea” to “sexual favors” to “creatively architected ritual murder.” As a phrase it could mean frankly anything. He cherished that ignorance, in fact. If he had had to answer in the affirmative Eldrin would probably have made him do something humiliating. More humiliating. He hated being looked at by so many eyes, but Eldrin seemed to revel in it.  _ Disgusting little worm. _

 

Tirele laughed uneasily, her hand dropping from her mouth, shoulders sagging slightly as she relaxed.

 

“You've got this... daedra... that could probably rip a grown man in half and you want it to juggle?” Teris asked, incredulous. Eldrin shrugged.

 

“They've got to do something for fun in the Madgod's realm.”

 

The moment seemed to have mostly passed. Gellesir brushed a kiss against her escort's cheek, leaving him red-faced at the knowing laughter of his friends, and got up to saunter over to that table, hips rocking slightly from side to side as she went. Her slippers glittered with gold-colored beads. She rested a hand on Eldrin's chair, looking over at the purple-gray creature in his seemingly inadequate armor. The green-on-black eyes looked back inscrutably, dark lips faintly smiling.

 

“Now where in the world did you find something like this?” she asked, voice a throaty purr. “My friend Zoso was just saying how amazing that is.” She nodded to her escort, who was now frowning, looking from her to Eldrin and back. He couldn't hear them from his table, only see that she was evidently talking to someone else about him.

 

Eldrin coolly eyed her from head to toe, then glanced at Zoso, his smirk growing just slightly. He smiled warmly at her when she asked the question.

 

“A family heirloom I inherited today,” he said, holding up his hand for her to see the ring. That was technically true, and it sounded much better than  _ my eccentric lush of an uncle gave it to me without realizing what he was giving away. _ He stood and pulled his shawl off the chair, bowing forward slightly. “Would you care to join us? I don't believe we've ever been introduced. I'm Eldrin Llethri. These are my friends, Teris Rothalen, Favise Adras, Sunel Bertis, Velis Romlyn, and Tirele Sadrith.” He gestured to the others and introduced them counter-clockwise around the table, and each either nodded politely or said hello. All were Dunmer.

 

He hooked an empty chair from a nearby table to pull up beside the one he had vacated for her.

 

“I'm Gellesir,” she said, smiling at them all as he gave her his chair. She seemed to wiggle all over without really moving as she turned to smile at Eldrin last, causing the fabric of her robe to shift in interesting ways. From the corner of her eye she was aware of Zoso's complexion gradually darkening, drawing his friends' attention to this table. So it was a ring. Well, that was a little tricky, but it could work. Did Eldrin have any idea what his “family heirloom” was worth, that he was flaunting it as carelessly as this? “That's so interesting. Has it been in your family a long time?”

 

The daedra itself was paying her no attention, looking around the room with arms hanging at its sides. It seemed to be armed with daggers of a strange dark metal, not the red-on-black inlay of dremora weapons or the stern yellow of the Golden Saints she had seen in pictures.

 

Eldrin did not really know the answer to that question, but he said, “Oh yes, quite a long time. The original owner was a very powerful mage.” He was very disinterested in Gellesir and almost wished she would go away, but he would give anything to watch Zoso Varfayn squirm. That's what he got for courting an outlander.

 

He sat down between Gellesir and Tirele, who had scooted her own chair around to face Valka. Her fear had totally evaporated and she stared at him in rapt fascination, holding up one hand uncertainly as if she wanted to touch him.

 

The barmaid came back then carrying several bottles and glasses on a platter, warily eyeing the Mazken as she passed. Eldrin held up two fingers, and she set down two glasses in front of the Dunmer and Bosmer along with a bottle of sujamma. The cups were green glass with fat little stems.

 

“Anything else, Serjo Llethri?” she asked, gathering up some of the empty bottles onto the platter.

 

“That's all for now, thank you, Falla.” Eldrin was very thankful for the interruption as he uncorked the bottle and poured a glass for himself and Gellesir. He did not really want to talk more about the origin of the ring. He didn't even know the full name of the mer it had originally belonged to- Kerghed something-or-other.

 

Movement, near to his body. Valka's eyes moved to follow the Dunmer girl's upraised fingers. He offered the back of one gauntlet politely, head inclined in a half-bow. He was not sure what rank these females were compared to Eldrin, but being obediently courteous to females was something he had been taught was uniformly mandatory. Mortals were obviously worthless regardless of gender, but if he was going to be trapped here he might as well make himself agreeable. It was the Mazken way. And perhaps they had favors to offer Eldrin if he pleased them. And perhaps if Eldrin were pleased he would not come up with new ways to torment his summoned.

 

“Ooh, can we touch him?” Gellesir asked. “Is he really warm? I've heard daedra are hot-blooded.” A terrible, wonderful idea had just occurred to her.

 

She knew a limited number of spells. There was one in particular that had often been useful in extracting herself from awkward social situations.

 

“Sure, I don't care,” Eldrin said, then greedily tossed back his first drink of the night.

 

Tirele carefully laid her palm over the offered gauntlet, her hand lightly sweeping up to touch his naked bicep. She squeezed him gently. “He is warm!” she said, face flushing purple. The mer beside her, Velis, laughed and poked Tirele in the side.

 

“Calm down there, Tirele! I don't think Eldrin will let you take it home!” The others all laughed, including Eldrin, and she quickly retracted her hand, turning to frown with mock indignation at them.

 

Gellesir stood up and went to stand behind Tirele, watching as if slightly fearful, dark eyes big. The daedra bore this patiently, smiling slightly down at the Dunmer. Gellesir reached out to touch his chest above his metal corset. It was fever-hot. From the corner of her eye she could see Zoso getting up from his table, angrily gesticulating at his friends. They all got up and started over, clearly egging each other on with drunken exclamations.

 

_ Yes, I think now is a good time. _ She raised a hand to seemingly fondle the dark seducer's back muscles, and as she did so she fanned her palm open, parsing out the magicka under the skin and forcing it through the surface:

 

_ Frenzy. _

 

To her complete startlement, though her hand hid the spell's light, she felt the force of it explode away from the daedra's body. She took a quick step back, hand over her mouth, as the pulse of infuriating magicka burst backward -

 

\- Into the face of Zoso Varfayn. The young Dunmer's face contorted in sudden rage as he threw himself at the first thing he saw, the dark seducer. His three friends fanned out to drunkenly flail at whatever target looked the most annoying. One of them tried to hit Eldrin in the nose.

 

Eldrin looked over at Zoso from above the rim of his glass, smiling into it.

 

“Here comes the idiot brigade,” Teris said, rolling his eyes. Eldrin clanked down his glass and stood up, feet apart, head high as he smugly watched them approach. Then Zoso threw himself at Valka and all hell broke lose. Eldrin's hand closed around the hilt of his tanto just as one of Zoso's friends smashed a fist into his nose, sending Eldrin tumbling backward over his own chair. Again the music stopped and now everyone was shouting.

 

Tirele yelped and scrambled away, tripping over her own feet in her drunkenness and continuing toward the edge of the room in a crawl. Teris was unarmed. He picked up his chair and staggered at the mer who had hit Eldrin, shouting incoherently while trying to bash him over the head. His hip slammed into the table as he did so, sending bottles and glasses rolling to the floor. Sunel and Favise had piled on top of one of the others, while Velis had drawn a knife and was circling the third, spouting drunken threats.

 

Valka was aware that a spell had been cast, and felt it reflected from his body. The flesh of Mazken incorporated so much magicka that they did not easily absorb it. Before he could turn to the source of the attack he found himself suddenly tackled around the neck. He stiffened his legs, realizing that the clacking sound in his ear was teeth as someone tried completely without effect to bite through his helmet.

 

_ You will never harm me nor any other person unless I expressly give permission for you to do so. _

 

His hands literally would not reach for his daggers. Valka's face wore an expression of mild annoyance as he gradually pried the Dunmer from around his neck, ignoring the mer's legs flailing ineffectually around his shins. He held the creature at arm's length as he looked around.

 

The chaos of violence had gradually spread, and the mortal responsible was currently circling around behind his present master. She had something in her hand that was dark and fat and about six inches long. Well, Eldrin had not ordered him to defend him. It wasn't his problem.

 

“What in the hells!” Eldrin shrieked, sprawled on the floor with his legs over the chair, hand clutching his nose. Something warm and wet spilled down his face. Then he tasted blood. He kicked aside the chair and sprang up, enraged, yanking the tanto from its sheath.

 

Valka plonked the Dunmer who had attacked him onto his feet, seized the top of his robes, and tore them down to his shoulders, pinning his arms. Then he spun him around, applied a foot to his backside, and pushed him into Velis. He was careful not to inflict any bruises. He'd been ordered not to cause harm. Now he stood with folded arms, watching mortals flail at each other with surprisingly little effect. By this point he felt that there should be at least one corpse. And then the Mazken would stop all of it and send everyone home to their odorous mortal dwellings, because you couldn't let them stay.  Drunk wore off, but mad was forever.

 

Other mortals were heading upstairs to get away from the violence or crowding around to watch. The latter category was also smaller than seemed normal to him. The instinct of self-preservation was also a characteristic somewhat lacking in the citizens of Crucible.

 

Gellesir grinned as she heard Eldrin's high-pitched protest. She waited until he had a blade in his hand before she leaned forward, swiping at the back of his skull with the cosh she had been keeping strapped to her thigh. In the unlikely event someone actually noticed she could claim self-defense. The law did not favor an Outlander in a Redoran town, but she was smaller than Eldrin, and the worst she was risking was probably being thrown out or having to bribe a guard.

 

One glance at the chaos had been enough for Eldrin to realize that Valka wasn't helping in any significant way. He hadn't even drawn his dagger! He opened his mouth to snap at the Mazken and then something hard and heavy bludgeoned his skull from behind and Eldrin dropped. The room blinked out briefly and when Eldrin was aware of himself he was flat on his face on the floor, gasping. Blood was streaming from his nose and now his head throbbed with horrible pain.

 

“Hey!” Teris had seen Gellesir strike Eldrin. He launched himself at her with fist drawn back, but he threw the punch far too early and went flailing past her.

 

“Valka, do something!” Eldrin snarled from the floor, rolling onto his back with blade in hand to defend from the likely follow up attack.

 

Valka's first hope, that the ring would be stolen by someone more likely to lose it forever, died aborning as Teris attacked the Bosmer. She ducked nimbly, but by then Eldrin was conscious again, the moment lost.

 

_ Do something. _

 

Without contradicting previous orders he could heal Eldrin; he could Burden the thief; he could Burden Teris and hope it was enough. Reluctantly he acknowledged that the last course would probably not achieve the result he wanted with Eldrin now armed and alert. On the other hand, there was a chance that if she escaped, she might try again.

 

Valka walked calmly over toward them, moving politely aside to let the Bosmer dart past him, and opened his hand toward Eldrin. Blue healing magicka flared around his fingers and formed a sphere that darted out toward the Dunmer.

 

Gellesir ran for it, dropping the cosh into a potted plant on her way past. She smeared a little blood on one cheek for effect. By the time she hit the top of the stairs she was just another terrified, hysterical woman, bloodied, eyes streaming, and one of the incoming Redoran guards actually gave her a sympathetic pat and checked her over to see if she needed healing before they urged her outside.

 

The pain disappeared and the blood flow from Eldrin’s nose stopped immediately. He kicked at the leg of one of their attackers before rolling over and back to his feet, and when he looked up the guards were on the stairs. He was the only really sober person so he quickly sheathed the tanto and danced away from the maelstrom of flailing bodies who had not yet realized the guards had arrived. There was some shouting as the guards rushed forward to restrain the fighters, but people quickly gave up when they saw bonemold-clad figures enter the fray.

 

Teris was yelling incoherently about “The Bosmer! Boooosmeeer!” while a guard held his arms from behind. Eldrin looked down at himself, at the bloodstain on the collar of his tunic, at the broken chairs and bottles all over the floor. He looked up and saw the owner watching from the stairs, then his eyes cut to Valka, a red-on-red glare communicating that he was extremely displeased. Eldrin forced himself to appear calm, brushing a stray hair away from his face as he turned to the guards.

Valka took up station behind Eldrin's shoulder as the men in the bonemold armor finally arrived. He was not impressed by their response time. But then, nobody was dead and nothing was on fire, so obviously mortal recreation was conducted very differently here than in Crucible. He returned Eldrin's glare with an expression of helpful confusion, green-on-black eyes wide and innocent, pupils contradictingly large and pleased.

 

“Care to explain what's going on here?” a guard asked him. It was far from the first time they'd had to break up a fight at the Cat's Paw, nor was it the first time Eldrin had been involved. Many of them knew him by name. He pointed at Zoso.

 

“Ser, my friends and I were minding our own business when THIS miscreant and his buddies attacked us for no reason. I trust they will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law.”

 

“Uh-huh. And what do you have to say about it?” a guard asked Zoso. Everyone had been properly restrained or had calmed down on their own by then.  From the corner of his eye Eldrin saw the owner angrily stalking over.

 

“It was – I -” Zoso started to explain himself, then stammered to a halt as he realized he wasn't sure exactly what had happened. He remembered starting for the other table, and then he remembered a red-hot explosion of rage, and he had lunged for whatever was in front of him... “His summoned daedra attacked me! I had to defend myself! Just look at this!” He picked at the remains of his robe, the scraps of which now covered him very little between the now-detached mandarin collar and the belt at the waist. In the process of getting his arms free he had destroyed it further. It had been expensive. That fact increased his sullen anger at Eldrin, that smug rich bastard. Couldn't even let him keep his Outlander girlfriend, oh no.

 

“Is that true?” The guard asked Eldrin. “Are you in control of this creature?”

 

“No! I mean, yes I am in control of him, but that is not what happened. Zoso attacked first.” Eldrin's friends were all nodding and chiming in with agreement, but then the owner stamped up to them.

 

“I don't care who started it this time! Every single one of your families are going to hear of this!”

 

Teris had calmed himself enough that the guard relaxed his hold, and now the Dunmer wriggled past Eldrin and almost knocked right into the owner, but Eldrin grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him. He was smiling in a way he thought was placating but really just made him look even more stupid-drunk.

 

“Let's not be hasty, my good - my good friend. Serjo. What are a few broken- pft- bottles?” Teris started laughing. It took him several tries to disentangle his coin purse from his belt and the owner glared at him while he swayed on his feet, even braced against Eldrin. Eldrin wanted to hide his face in his hands. Finally he freed the bag of gold and held it up, rolling it out of his hands for the mer to catch. It would be more than enough to pay for the damages and even the loss of profits for the night. Unlike Eldrin, Teris was wealthy enough that it really meant nothing to him.

 

The owner was still glaring with the bag in his hand, but he waved at the group in disgust.

 

“Just get them out of here.”

 

Zoso's friends were arguing in favor of his interpretation, but Zoso wasn't such a tremendous warrior as to render his claim plausible. Anyone who looked at him and the daedra for a few seconds could reasonably conclude that he was alive because the Mazken had  _ not  _ attacked him. A guard's spear-butt firmly tapping the floor silenced all of them.

 

“You idiots go home. Now,” said a voice from behind a bonemold helm, the eyes behind the viewing slit narrow and unamused. “We're not arresting anyone if you're out of here in the next thirty seconds.”

 

They filed out, Zoso glaring at Eldrin and his new pet over his shoulder. One of them snagged a bottle of sujamma on their way out, drunkenly convinced of his unobtrusiveness.

 

Eldrin smirked back, now that the danger of actually facing real consequences had apparently passed. He held Teris by the arm and guided him out. He had begun to whine that he left his drink at the table (when it was actually smashed all over the floor) but Eldrin patted him on the back and shushed him.

 

Tirele was long gone. She probably had not wanted to wait around for them in the storm. The sky was pitch black now. Flapping banners and distant clanking joined the roaring wind that pelted them with ash.

 

“Want to go to Rat in the Pot?” Favise shouted into the wind, shielding her face with cupped hands.

 

“What? Sure!” Teris said.

 

“No, Teris.” To the others he said, “I think I ought to take him home. You all go ahead.” He was still holding onto Teris. It didn't seem like the mer could walk more than a few steps on his own. He nudged his friend back toward the manor district, looking over his shoulder to make sure Zoso and his group weren't coming after him for round two, and that Valka was following.

 

Valka had no choice. The ring's enchantment constrained him to remain within fifty yards of the possessor unless specifically ordered otherwise, so he might as well seem as though he were behaving obediently. He followed behind Eldrin with his head down as the rest of the group peeled off. With one upraised gauntlet he did his best to deflect ash from the unprotected part of his face. Dimly he thought he remembered seeing one of these storms before, but he had not been outside in it. He would have remembered the uncomfortable sensation of dust being whipped repeatedly into his unprotected chest.

 

Zoso had thought about going after that rich bastard again, but shirtless in an ash storm he would be flayed alive before they could get into a real fight. He slunk away with his friends to drink at home, each telling the other how brave they had been and what a cowardly fetcher Eldrin was and to hell with faithless Outlander women, anyway.

 

Eldrin was irritated by what he considered to be Valka's disobedience and the fact that his night of fun had been prematurely curtailed. Plus, some outlander harlot had clubbed him in the back of the head and got away with it. But his anger melted away as he hobbled home with an arm around Teris's shoulder, bowed slightly forward to keep ash out of their eyes. The mer was so warm against his side compared to the cold of the storm, and this close to his friend Eldrin could smell soap and bug musk combating the reek of sujamma on his breath. Beneath all of that Eldrin imagined he could just faintly pick out Teris's natural scent. He turned his face toward the drunk's shoulder under the guise of protecting himself from the storm.

 

Teris was met at the door by an older Dunmer servant, an actual paid housekeeper whose job it was to supervise the slaves and keep the household in order. She gave them both an exasperated look and hauled Teris away, soothing his protests as she dragged him toward bath and bed.  Eldrin felt like a little piece of himself had been hauled away with him, the loss of weight and warmth against his side almost painful. He could meet up with the others at Rat in the Pot, but it wouldn't have been any fun now. As soon as the door closed he whirled to scowl at the Mazken.

 

“Valka, what in the hells happened back there? Next time someone attacks me, don't just stand staring like an idiot!” He started off toward his own home, moving sideways against the wind to glare back at his daedra with one arm raised in front of himself.

 

“Of course, Master Eldrin,” Valka said, his tone suggesting only polite helpfulness as he, too, did his best to protect himself from the wind. Eldrin had not yet constrained him to answer every question, only to speak the truth. Maybe he wouldn't notice. “Please accept my humble apology. Are you displeased with my service?” Regrettably he could not claim to be sorry. The ring's encumbrance was not enforced by pain, which he was well able to endure. It was simply impossible for him to disobey. His own body and voice would not follow his orders when they conflicted with Eldrin's.

 

Eldrin stopped walking long enough to turn fully around, glaring up at the Mazken while the wind tossed his hair against his face.

 

“Quit playing stupid with me,” Eldrin snapped. Then, suddenly, a cruel smile broke across his face. “Tell me honestly, Valka, what is the most unpleasant punishment you could ever endure at my hands?”

 

 

It had been slightly less infuriating while it lasted, Valka thought.

 

“Every second spent in your presence is a severe punishment, you puling, narcissistic worm, but I suppose being stabbed and then fucked through the holes by your disgusting friends while you force me to pleasure you orally would be worse.” His tone was still calm, although he was now forced to drop the pretense of helpful politeness.

 

Eldrin's face dropped as if he'd been slapped. He wasn't expecting an answer quite so... vivid. But he quickly hardened his expression again, narrowing his eyes and frowning seriously.

 

“I would not dishonor my friends by asking them to put their cocks anywhere near a vile Mazken, but I'm sure I could orchestrate a similar punishment. Sunel's family raises nix hounds. I've heard they'll fuck any hole if you smear the female's pheromones on it. I was not clear with my expectations so I'll let it go this time...  But next time it looks like I need help, help me without having to be ordered expressly. If I am displeased again I will arrange for this punishment. You are--” He waved an angry hand at the daedra, preparing to dismiss him, and then realized that would be too kind.

 

Eldrin shut his mouth and whirled around to resume his trudge through the storm. He did not particularly want a daedra slinking around in his house unsupervised while he slept, but Valka could not harm him or anyone else.

‘

Valka, watching the mortal's face sidelong, was somewhat surprised that he'd scored a hit. He tried to figure out subsequently how he'd done it as he listened to the inevitable threat, not trying to keep the disgust off his face now. It was too bad Eldrin had forced that admission. He might have actually been dismissed again, been confronted only with immortal beings who desperately wanted to kill him instead of this revolting and alien and currently painful place.

 

Eldrin came into the manor quietly and was surprised to see lanterns still burning in the antechamber to his father's room. He spotted Gilan slumped over his desk and Eldrin was momentarily alarmed before he realized the mer had just fallen asleep.

 

“Go downstairs and stand guard there for the rest of the night,” Eldrin said to Valka in a low voice. Then he turned left, and after crossing two short steps down and an open doorway he was in the little room his father used as both personal library and office. The two egg mines he owned were both North of Ald'ruhn so Gilan did not oversee day-to-day operations, but he often spent a great deal of his time in this room poring over various reports and writing out orders.

 

His father had indeed fallen asleep, using his crossed arms and a heavy ledger beneath them as pillow for his head. It did not look particularly comfortable. Partially pinned beneath his right elbow was a letter, ink inadvertently smeared. It only caught Eldrin's eye because he noticed that it was addressed to Gilan's brother, Garisa Llethri. Eldrin frowned and carefully slid the corner of the paper out from beneath his father's arm to read it.

 

The letter was asking Garisa for money. Both egg mines were suffering terrible losses after blight disease had wiped out most of the colonies, including the queens. This was a fact Eldrin already knew, but he had never really stopped to consider how serious that might be. You just raised up another one to take its place, didn't you?

 

According to the letter, there had been no new shipments from either mine for over a month, and it would be four months yet before the new queens matured enough to even begin production again, and another four months before they could produce at full capacity. Workers had been revolting at one of the mines, which complicated matters.

 

The letter was obviously a rough draft, with phrases scratched out here and there. It seemed like Gilan had been trying to find the words that seemed least like begging. He and Garisa had never really gotten along, and the entire Llethri family viewed Gilan with disdain both for “marrying down” and for not following the political career path shared by most of the family. To ask this of his Councilman brother could not be easy for Gilan.

 

Eldrin looked down at his father's graying hair and felt a brief pang of sorrow, but bitterness quickly washed that away. Maybe he wanted Savil's dowry to end his financial problems. Maybe his concern for Eldrin's future was genuine and he only wanted to ensure his son would avoid his own fate. It was hard to say. Either answer was understandable. But that didn't make his father's treatment of Eldrin any less unfair!

 

Eldrin decided not to wake his father up, carefully placing the paper back on the desk and turning away. He suddenly felt very tired, and he was glad that he was home so that he could become unconscious and wake up to a brighter day. He said nothing to Valka as he went downstairs and shut himself in his room, leaving the Mazken alone in the hall.

 

Being inside out of the storm was a relief to Valka. His skin stung from the ash as he obeyed orders, only mildly curious whether the other Dunmer was alive or dead. Probably alive. Probably he had just collapsed from lack of some mortal necessity. He had never seen his previous master do that, but he was gradually realizing that Kerghed had been much cleverer and better prepared for most situations than the people around Eldrin. Possibly that was why his new master was such an idiot, because he had no reason not to think everyone was.

 

Eldrin did not speak to Valka again as he went in and shut the door. The Mazken was just as glad to be left out in the hall. He still found the sight of mortals sleeping to be bizarre and uncomfortable. Probably it was as well that Eldrin did not know that. Or possibly the Dunmer would not enjoy having Valka watch him sleep all night, either. Standing bored in a hallway was only a minor irritation. Time was endless, and Valka was patient. Sooner or later someone with no real threats or needs in his life would get bored with having him around.


	4. Chapter 4

Eldrin woke abruptly much earlier than his usual time. He was panting and sticky, hair plastered to his body with sweat. He sat up immediately, overwhelmed by the sense that some malevolent entity was there in the room with him. The room was pitch black with no windows in the lower level, and no lights had been lit.  _ Valka! He's trying to kill me! _ He threw a ball of light from one splayed palm in a panic, the pale green globe stinging Eldrin's eyes and sending long shadows crawling up the walls. His eyes darted to every dark corner of the room, but his door was still shut and the Mazken, obviously, was not there. Then rationality trickled back and Eldrin knew that a nightmare must have woke him up. He sighed heavily and flopped back down onto the pillows, then wriggled with disgust. The bed was soaked with sweat. He laid there for a moment, trying to remember -

 

_ A mass of boneless gray flesh, stretching and bubbling like magma as it oozed over rocks. Putrid yellow liquid dripping from a disembodied eyeball. A multitude of voices whispering all at once, too low and too many to pick out a single word. T _ he images and sounds that accompanied them were all vague impressions, barely comprehensible yet deeply disturbing. Eldrin groaned and rolled out of bed. He was definitely not falling asleep again after that.

 

It was a few hours later that Eldrin and Teris came strolling along to the forager pit with Valka in tow.  Down the hill from the Manor District was a more working-class area. Homes were made of rougher stucco, still more or less in the shape of giant mole crabs, but not as refined or as decorated in their shapes as the manors of the wealthy. They were closer together, and the thorny trama ran riot between them and in the little squares and alleys. In some places vines covered the buildings as well, where people were too busy and tired to cut them away. They cast strange shadows at all times of day.

 

In one of the small squares a tiny arena had been set up, fatter trama roots pushed out into a circle around a central gab. Men would gather to squat or kneel in the dust around this, sometimes on a rug if you were posh, and toss kwama foragers in to fight each other. A colored ribbon around each one would tell them apart for those that were similar-looking. They didn't even have to be taunted; foragers would instinctively attack anything not from their own hill or mine. They had to be kept in cages and only grabbed just behind the head, so that they could not bring their round lipless jaws to bear.

 

Zoso came down a couple of mornings a week, when it was cool and unlikely to be ashy. There was a particular forager he always bet on, a fat red thing called Su-Su that was owned by a workman who cleaned the guard towers. Su-Su was more venomous than usual and was undefeated. It was rumored his owner was feeding him bittergreen to keep him from pupating. Today it was just him and Lothon, his closest friend and the son of his father's business partner in their jewelry business. They were aware of Eldrin's old uncle as one who had been a professional rival of note before he had mostly dropped out of the market. Now they knelt on a rug, looking over the cages as the workmen paraded them past, laughing and taunting each other.

 

Eldrin had spent some time collecting his friend; he was groggy and slow to rise, as Eldrin had expected, but they shared breakfast while laughing over last night's excitement. Then Eldrin showed off his new servant to Teris's mother and younger sisters while waiting for the other mer to get himself ready.

 

Valka followed Eldrin impassively, looking around at the pressed mass of mer. They were dressed differently from his master and Teris. There were rich and poor in the Isles, and its courtiers wore if anything much more ridiculous extremes of fashion, though he had only seen them passing in the streets. He had not been fortunate or unfortunate enough to be assigned to guard the Madgod's palace, both blessed to be near the Master of All and cursed to be near his mortal retinue.

 

“Look at this rabble. Why is hanging around dirty commoners so fun to you?” Eldrin asked with mock scorn. He was aware of heads turning as they passed, people backing up and giving space to the young mer with the daedra while they pointed and whispered to one another. This pleased Eldrin very much.

 

“These people know how to have fun. It's all they've got,” Teris said. They were walking through rows of cages, some distance away from the actual ring. Teris had broken off a dead piece of trama root as they walked, and now he squatted down to poke it through the bars of a cage- the owner didn't seem to be around. The kwama forager inside made an angry, high-pitched screeching noise and snapped the stick with its tooth-ringed mouth. It immediately spit the end out when the thorns stabbed the inside of its mouth, then threw its fat little body against the bars, trying to get at its tormentor. Teris just laughed and stood up.

 

“Hey!” he said, pointing at the arena. “Isn't that Zoso? Haha!” Eldrin followed his friend's gaze and indeed it was Zoso Varfayn kneeling at the other opposite end of the ring. Teris grabbed Eldrin by the arm and pushed him in that direction, grinning. They didn't even have to shove their way through the masses. People made way readily when they saw Valka.

 

“Hey, look, it's Eldrin and his new purple bitch,” Lothon said, grabbing Zoso's shoulder. They were much of a type, and neither was terribly different in appearance from Eldrin or any other young Dunmer nobleman; only the particular details of style and features varied. Zoso wore his dark hair in a looped braid, and Lothon's was naturally white, cut to his shoulders with the front drawn back from his face in a short, high tail. Today both wore less expensive garb, linen tunics over softer silk undershirts and baggy black linen pants. It was a fact that Zoso was markedly less handsome either than Eldrin or than his companion. Lothon had fine cheekbones and a symmetrical face, jaw sharp but not too sharp, where Zoso had eyes that were very small and far apart and made him look a bit like a nix-hound.

 

“That asshole's got some nerve,” Zoso growled under his breath. “I halfway think he Frenzied me or something.”

 

“Hey, at least he's not with Gellesir.”

 

“Don't mention her name to me again, Lothon, I'm pretending she's dead.”

 

“Ha, fair enough.”

 

Only the smug awareness that he knew something Eldrin didn't kept Zoso from trying to cut the smug look from Eldrin's damn girly face right there.

 

“Are you here to bet, Llethri?” he sneered. “Or are you here looking for a girlfriend for when your new one gets tired of you?”

 

“Just because a toothless forager is the only thing you can get to suck your sad little dick doesn't mean I'm about to try it,” Eldrin said, grinning, arms crossed over his chest. Teris laughed wildly, shaking Eldrin's shoulder with both hands. That made Eldrin's smile broaden.

 

“Where IS your girlfriend, Zoso?” Teris asked gleefully as he pulled away.

 

Zoso's smile evaporated. He was aware of Lothon beside him trying hard not to laugh, shoulders twitching. He pulled it back on with an effort, but it was a colder and nastier expression.

 

“Who cares? There's plenty more like her.” He shrugged. “If I were you I'd be worried more about your own egg mines and not some Outlander bit of fluff.”

 

Valka listened to this exchange with indifference, noting words and phrases in case they might be of use later.

 

Eldrin's smile faltered just slightly, face hardening.

 

“Wow, what a low blow,” he mocked. “The worst dig you can think up is about a few sick kwama? I wonder just how many guys that bitch was fucking around with behind your back if that's how dense you are.”

 

Zoso, watching closely, grinned more broadly as he recognized that he'd hit home. “Not so dense I wouldn't know if my own uncle was blighting my own kwama, sweetcheeks.”

 

“Do you want me to kill them?” Valka leaned forward to whisper in Eldrin's ear, judging that the moment of temper zenith was approaching. Perhaps if he could get Eldrin to publicly have him murder someone the ring would be confiscated.

 

Eldrin's eyes narrowed at Zoso.

 

“What the hells are you talking-” And then Valka's offer registered and Eldrin whirled to glare up at him. “No, Valka, you can't just kill people on the street! B'vek! Unless YOU want a blowjob from a kwama that has all its teeth you'd better stop trying to fuck with me!”

 

Teris burst out laughing again, pounding his thigh with one fist and holding his belly with the other.

 

"What did he ask you to merit a threat like that?" Teris howled.

 

"He wanted to know if he could kill these guys," Eldrin snapped. He didn't think it was at all funny.

 

Valka squinted, trying to decide if that was actually worse than the punishment he had initially thought the most awful thing he could invent.

 

“Why do all of your plans for torturing me physically seem to involve bestiality?”

 

“I think the answer to that is obvious,” Zoso said, trying to recover ground after being momentarily frozen by Eldrin's remark. Obviously he wasn't going to be killed by a daedra in broad daylight in Ald'ruhn. That was ridiculous. “It's because he's a pervert. And everybody knows the other Llethris turned the disease loose on your father's stock, idiot. You're all alone, and soon you'll be poor. That's probably a fate worse than death for a fancy lady like you.” He made a flippy hand gesture suggesting effeminacy.

 

"Even Teris won't show up to suck your dick then," Lothon chimed in.

 

Teris had stopped laughing and now he frowned at the others.

 

“You're the one who-” Teris began, but he was interrupted by an enraged Eldrin shrieking, “You thrice-damned s'wit!” and jumping madly at Zoso, fist pulled back to bash him in his stupid nix-eyed face.

 

Zoso's nose pulped under his fist, blood streaming down his face as he staggered backward. Lothon was dead sober this time, and waiting for trouble to start. He grabbed for Eldrin's shirt-front, steel tanto upraised, and was about to slash at Eldrin's face when Valka's gauntleted fist closed around his weapon hand. The Mazken stepped calmly between them. There was a  _ crunch  _ as fragile bones were smashed between unyielding gauntlet and unyielding hilt. Lothon's scream drew many eyes to them, men with cages in their hands backing quickly away from the obvious signs of trouble. Nobody wanted to call the guards. Fighting kwama foragers for bets wasn't exactly legal, but it was usually overlooked.

 

Eldrin was already throwing a second punch at the side of Zoso's face with his left fist when Lothon's hand closed around his shirt, but he hardly felt the brief yank before the mer was forced to release him. Eldrin's face was contorted in such fury that Teris would scarcely have recognized his friend if he had been able to see it, but he stood behind, gaping in momentary confusion.

 

The mer with the broken hand was no longer a threat, eyes streaming as he whitened in impending shock. It was a useful characteristic of mortal bodies, that particular reaction to injury. Valka let go of his hand and allowed him to stagger back as he stepped forward to catch at Eldrin's arm. He didn't want to do it, nothing would please him more than to allow Eldrin enough rope to hang himself, but he couldn't come up with an interpretation of his orders that would allow that in a situation like this.

 

_ But next time I need help... _ Curse all mortals and their vague, broad instructions. Another blow to the broken nose could easily drive shards into the other Dunmer's brain. Zoso was dozy and staggering, dull-eyed.

 

“You are about to take a life,” Valka said. “Be very certain that is what you intend.”

 

Eldrin's head whipped aside, eyes landing on the Mazken's. His lips were pulled back from gritted teeth in an ugly snarl and he was panting hard through his nose.

 

They stood in an expanding circle of space and silence. Even the foragers in the fighting ring had been taken away.  The sudden quiet seemed a greater jolt to Teris than the scream had been and he jumped forward, grabbing Eldrin's arm on the side opposite Valka.

 

“Come on, Eldrin! We need to get the fuck out of here right now!” he shouted, yanking Eldrin back. Eldrin didn't nod, he just turned and ran, letting Teris drag him along by the arm. He let go when he was sure Eldrin was sane enough to follow, sprinting through the crowd that readily made space for them, and then they were flying through alleyways and side streets. 

 

The Mazken kept up easily, boots thudding along behind them with unnatural regularity. He looked around them as they went, trying to keep track of the route. The streets of this place were no more labyrinthine than what was normal to him, but they were new and unfamiliar. He was gradually beginning to associate alien sounds and smells with their sources:  _ sharp tang of a plant with green leaves, milder scent of the fat gray fines with the thorns. Earthy dense smell of the buildings themselves, made from some kind of stiffened earth. Taint of bitter ash, painful to the nose. _

 

Eldrin didn't stop until Teris did, catching himself against a wall with his arms to stop abruptly. They were out back of some business in the poorer end of town, the alley half concealed from the main road by a cluster of similar pod-like shell structures enclosing the space on three sides. There was a pile of something rotting on the ground, like someone had just thrown leftover food scraps between the buildings.  

 

Teris braced his hands on his thighs, panting, while Eldrin heaved against the wall. That went on for what seemed like forever as they fought to catch their breath.  Valka turned with his back to them, keeping guard. From behind, the helmet could be seen turning to and fro as he looked up and down the alley.

 

“B'vek! What am I going to do?!” Eldrin cried when he had wind enough to do it. “Fifty people or more saw me hit him first! Almsivi! Valka, what did you do to Lothon?!”

 

“I broke most of the bones in his hand,” Valka said. “Regrettably, I also prevented him from stabbing you. He will probably be ill for a day or so after he is healed, but he will not die.”

 

“Ha, Eldrin, your daedra is a bit lippy,” Teris said.

 

“This isn't a joke!”

 

“Hey, calm down,” Teris said softly, holding his hands up. “They won't get any witnesses to speak for them. None of those guys are going to admit to an Ordinator they were betting on kwama fights.”

 

“Are you stupid?” Eldrin snapped, glaring at his friend. “All it takes is ONE person to corroborate Zoso's story, and he could pay one of those peons triple their fine! And do you really think neither of their parents will tell my father what happened? I'm in deep muck here!” Eldrin was pacing frantically, his hands alternating between holding his forehead or clenching in the air. He started chewing his thumbnail when he was finished speaking.

 

“You're right, you're right. I'm sorry.” Teris stood with hands on his hips, staring thoughtfully at the ground, lips pursed. Then he looked up at Eldrin and shrugged. “I mean, it won't be the first time you've been arrested. Just pay the fine.”

 

Eldrin stopped pacing, clenched fists dropping to his side.

 

“My father cut me off.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Those things Zoso was saying about our mines... it was true. I didn't realize just how bad things were until now. Father hasn't said so directly, but I think he's close to being broke. That's probably why he's pushing my marriage so hard.” He wasn't able to look Teris in the eye. These kinds of financial troubles were so far off the map for the Rothalen family that Teris probably couldn't begin to comprehend it. He glanced up, saw the sympathy plain on Teris's softened brow, and his frown deepened. Eldrin did not want his pity.

 

And then, there was the thing Zoso had said about his Uncle Llethri sabotaging the mines... could that actually be true? Why? What had his father ever done to warrant that treatment? It didn't make any sense to Eldrin, but then why would the queens in two separate colonies get sick with blight at nearly the same time? Did Garisa just want to watch his own brother grovel and beg for help?

 

“I have to go,” Eldrin said abruptly. “Teris, you should go home. I might not have long before the guards come looking for me. If they come to your house, tell them you don't know where I am, would you?”

 

Teris blinked.

 

“Well, if you don't come with me then I really won't know. But Eldrin, you have a funny look on your face. What are you thinking?”

 

“Will you please just do as I ask?” Eldrin said stiffly. “I'll come see you when all of this is cleared up. Valka, you are dismissed.”  _ Good riddance, _ Eldrin thought without turning to look at the Mazken's dissolution. If he'd been thinking more clearly Eldrin might have noted that having Valka around had brought him nothing but trouble so far, but he was too busy thinking ahead to the problem of Garisa Llethri. As much as he hated to grant Valka his temporary freedom, right now being followed around by a hulking purple daedra would not benefit him.

 

“Eldrin-” Teris seemed lost for words, holding out a hand helplessly, but Eldrin clapped him on the shoulder and turned away. He jogged to the mouth of the alley and stopped there, glancing around get his bearings. “Go home, Teris!” he shouted over his shoulder, and then he took off in the direction of Uncle Zulkan's manor.

 

Eldrin wasn't sure how to proceed, but Zulkan always had good advice. He had not steered the Dunmer wrong yet.

 

\---

 

To find himself back in Cylarne would have been a relief to Valka had he not materialized almost on top of an Aureal warrior who was looking over the spear he had last dropped. She was kneeling in the leaves, turning it in her hands. She recovered first, while his eyes were still adjusting to the proper light, and his dagger had only just cleared its sheath when the spear embedded itself in his chest above his armor. He threw the knife even as pain exploded inside him, loud  _ crack  _ of his sternum splitting, and had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes go wide and blank in the moment before he heard his own heart stop. He was aware of his body hitting the ground, leaves flying up around him as it all went numb and dark.

 

He made his way back through the Void still seething. It took him longer than usual because sullen anger distracted him from concentrating on his destination. Only the Madgod's gibbering voice finally oriented him and drew him home. He was bone, was agonized screaming nerves, was muscle, was flesh. He kicked his way to the surface of the fountain pool and grabbed for the stone rim, gasping, teeth gritted. He was now back to the lowest rank, daggers that he had used for years in possession of the enemy, and it was all thanks to that mortal idiot's inability to control himself. He had hoped to make trouble for Eldrin, not for himself.

 

“Move it,” a guard snapped at him, prodding him in the hip with the butt of a spear. “Go get your gear issued, kiskengo.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am,” Valka panted, head down, and stumbled toward the door of the massive stone chamber, the floor cold under his naked feet. Behind him he heard the splash as another Mazken surfaced from the Wellspring. It must've been a woman. He heard her staggering toward the opposite door from the one in front of him. There was another man ahead of him, dispiritedly drying off with a bit of sack before climbing into his new armor. He was a paler pink, probably able to pass for human if he was sent to perform espionage in Bliss or in Nirn. They did not speak as Valka received his issued armor – the same size as everyone else's – and dressed himself. Both were suffused with the same shame.

 

This was his punishment for telling a mortal his name without checking that the mer was not from Crucible. This was his punishment for being careless even for one moment: an eternity of being intermittently trapped in a hell of ash and gray skies and lorded over by a creature who, ostensibly sane, had as little control over his impulses as the madmen of the Isles. It was a wonder the women in his life let him run around loose. Perhaps his female progenitor was dead. That might actually explain the reference to an arranged marriage. Possibly his father didn't know what to do with him and hoped a strong female hand might be able to control him as well as improve their fortunes.

 

And yet there had been something about that other world that he did not remember from his time with Kerghed, even something that he did not often see in the mortals of the Isles. Eldrin had people around him who spoke to him unguardedly, who touched him, whom he seemed to just assume would not attack him for advantage in the next moment. He could not forget Teris constantly grabbing at Eldrin's shoulder, them leaning on each other as they went home through the storm. He was not a creature designed to wither and die without touch – but -

 

But -

 

But what? This was sentimental nonsense. He had suffered a reversion of fortune and was demoralized, that was all. He accepted an issued spear, the haft dark wood, the hand-sized leaf-shaped point made of dull-colored metal whose edges would be deceptively sharp. It was a cutting weapon as well as a stabbing one. He whirled it experimentally in both hands, reminding himself of the weapon's use, and stepped out of the darkness of the armor into the brightness of the courtyard. He went directly to the grakendo by the gate and tapped his heels together, head bowed. She was very dark-skinned, great wings folded about her shoulders like a cape. She had chosen not to retract them.

 

“And who are you?” she asked. He looked straight at the wall ahead, aware of her eyes flickering up and down his body.

 

“Kiskengo Valka, Ma'am.”

 

“Where was your last assignment before you fell?” she asked, voice harsh and disinterested.

 

“Cylarne, Ma'am.”

 

“You died at Aureal hands.” He did not flinch at the cold disapproval in her tone, eyes straight ahead.

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

“I should kill you again just for that.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am,” he agreed dully. He braced himself, knowing how this conversation was likely to end, but she settled for backhanding him with her sword hilt. He staggered back, tasting blood in his mouth, and resumed the position of attention as quickly as he could.

 

“I don't want to see you again. You're assigned to the garrison at Stipplehand. Maybe in a thousand years you will again have the privilege of dying at Cylarne. It's about fifty miles to the East. Start walking.”

 

“Yes, Ma'am! Thank you, Ma'am!”

 

He dipped his head in salute again and walked quickly out the gate to turn toward the golden glow on the horizon. It would take him a couple of days to walk that far, ignoring time interrupted by the accursed summons of the ring. At least it would be quiet.

 

\---

 

La'zira answered the door in a loose white cotton robe that was falling off one shoulder, rubbing her eyes. She squinted at Eldrin, then straightened quickly, ears held quiveringly high. “Master Eldrin! Zulkan is upstairs. If you would sit by the dining room fire I will fetch him at once!”

 

 

Eldrin glanced the slave over from head to toe and stifled his disapproving frown.

 

“Of course,” he said breathlessly. He was still panting from the run over. He made his way to the dining room and flopped down into a chair in front of the fire, leaning back and closing his eyes while he caught his breath, hands tight on the arm rests. Stray hairs were plastered to his face with sweat, his overexcited heart thudding loud in his ears. Eldrin did not want to go to jail. The one other time he had been too drunk to really understand what was going on- he spent some time retching in the corner and then passed out, and a few hours later his father came to drag him home. Spending days, weeks in a stinking cell not only would be pure mental torture, but it would be a waste of his precious freedom, slowly trickling away like sand in an hourglass even now.

 

But Garisa Llethri! Eldrin's fury toward his uncle was greater even than his fears. Something had to be done about him now with Eldrin's rage still burning red hot, not after the long humiliation of jail and possibly even a trial. Eldrin leaned forward, elbows resting on his spread knees, hands clasped. He stared into the fire with his lips pressed tightly together and a very faraway look in his eyes while he waited.

 

Zulkan blinked sleepily at the slave's breathless report, then hastily climbed into his pants, hopping on one foot. “All right, get yourself dressed, girly. You shouldn't have answered the door in a robe. You know what that looks like. Bring out my sujamma and then go help Makes-Fine-Breads in the kitchen. He'll probably be hungry.”

 

“Yes, Serjo,” the Khajiit grinned unrepentantly and scooted for her own room down in the servant quarters.

 

He dressed himself and put up his hair in its usual sloppy bun as quickly as he could. So Eldrin had already run up against young Zoso, had he? It surely had to be that. That or he'd done something really quite stupid with the Mazken a great deal sooner than Zulkan had expected. He had known his nephew to be a bit volatile. Perhaps he ought to have waited on sending the brick with its embedded contents home with him.

 

He put on his plain brown shoes and a dark green tunic and went downstairs still buckling his belt. He was alert enough to look Eldrin over carefully as he went into the dining room. His face immediately crumpled with sympathy, then smoothed out as he moved forward.

 

“Almsivi, nephew, what've you been doing to yourself?”

 

“Uncle!” Eldrin straightened and brightened when the mer entered and then jumped out of his chair to move urgently toward Zulkan. “I'm sorry to drop in like this, but I don't have much time- you know the situation between my father and Councilman Llethri, don't you? Do you think it's possible the problems in our egg mines were caused purposely by him?”

 

Eldrin already believed it, but there was still that lingering doubt that perhaps Zoso had only been trying to stir him up. Eldrin needed to hear a second opinion before he acted rashly.

 

“Ugh, boy, you need a wash. I think you've still got a change in the guest room – what?” Zulkan stopped, blinking, with his hands on Eldrin's upper arms. “Councilman Llethri? Why should he – what would he have to gain? It's not as though your father was having an effect on his business, was he?” He let go of Eldrin with a pat, moving toward the fire to hold out his hands. His serious frown said he was not at all sure on that point.  _ Never be too obvious. Never state what you can get the other to say for you. _

 

Eldrin looked down at himself momentarily, realized he was sweaty and dusty from running through the streets, and might even smell like the garbage from the alley. That didn't matter right now! He looked desperately up at Zulkan's retreating back and followed after him to stand in front of the fire.

 

“Well no, of course not. But Garisa is a vindictive asshole and he never approved of my father marrying-” he paused. It was not like Zulkan didn't understand that the Narave family had carried less prestige, or that the Llethri family had protested Gilan's marriage to Minasi Narave. Still, Eldrin felt horrible reminding his uncle of that. “-my mother.” His shoulders sank a little and he looked away from the side of Zulkan's face, staring into the flames.

 

Zulkan shook his head slowly, heavily.

 

"Let it go, Eldrin. There's nothing else we can do. Marry this girl. Live a good life. I don't want you ruining your life over this, do you understand? Forgive and forget is the only way to go on. I don't want you to go the way of Saschi's girl. Things were never the same after she went to that shop under Skar down under the South walkway. What happened today to bring you to me?"

 

_ Ruin my life?! Garisa Llethri is the one who ruined it for me! _ Eldrin's hands clenched uselessly at his sides and he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, but slowly he released the rage. He had been hoping Uncle Zulkan could give him some practical advice for dealing with this situation, but what had he expected? There was nothing to be done against so powerful a mer, and without evidence of any wrongdoing...

 

_ Saschi? Elade Saschi? The one who tried to sabotage a smithy? _  Elade Saschi had tried to sabotage a rival smith's business by hiding an enchanted piece of iron under the Charui family's forge. She had eventually been found out because she went back to get it. The entire family had been ruined, fled in disgrace to Cyrodiil, it was said.  She had bought the cursed iron right here in town? Eldrin slowly registered that Zulkan had asked him something else and he glanced up in mild confusion, still half-processing his earlier thought.

 

“It's a bit of a long story,” he sighed.  _ Not really. I hit someone without “provocation.” Repeatedly.  _ “I'm sorry, Uncle, I've been so rude. I didn't even thank you for your gift- it turns out that the Valka of the ring is a Mazken, a male. Isn't that rare? The females outnumber males something like ten to one, don't they? He's a bit difficult, but he did save me from getting stabbed in the face today, I suppose.”

 

“Please tell me your Mazken hasn't killed anyone, boy,” Zulkan said, turning to him in alarm. This was entirely genuine. He had many plans for Eldrin yet, and the fine for a murder charge was beyond his present means without calling in favors whose source might readily be questioned. 

 

“No, no! Nothing like that! Valka can't disobey me and I've already told him he's forbidden to kill anyone,” Eldrin said quickly.  “Would you like to see him?”

 

“Thank Almsivi.  I don't know that summoning him will help us right now, Eldrin.”  He ran a hand over his face.  “I – no, they're not common at all. The females are stronger, so most mages don't consider the males worth trying to summon. This one must be unusual for it to have been worth it for old Kerghed.”

 

Eldrin had made a mistake. His original orders to Valka were never to do harm to a mortal without permission. Later he had contradicted himself by ordering Valka to help him if he needed help, which Valka had obviously been able to interpret as allowing him to physically hurt someone in defense of his master. Although Valka knew Eldrin did not want him to kill anyone, it was possible that in the future he might interpret such action as a necessity. But Eldrin had not fully thought that through.

 

“It was a stupid situation. I was at the forager pit with Teris and we ran into Zoso Varfayn and Lothon Sarathram. There was an argument. I- well, Zoso verbally provoked me and I punched him in the head several times. Lothon tried to cut me but Valka crushed his hand. Then we ran away...” Again he could not look his uncle in the eye. Zulkan was much more permissive than his father and would not lecture him as harshly, but in the back of his mind Eldrin understood that his behavior wasn't really okay with anyone.

 

“Oh, sweet Three.” Zulkan stared at him in disbelief. This, too, was genuine. He hadn't actually been sure Eldrin even was involved in gambling on foragers. He'd obviously given his nephew credit for more intelligence than he actually possessed. This was looking more and more like it might prove to be a short-lived mistake on his part. “If you were at the pits I assume a lot of people probably saw this?” He turned to shout into the kitchen. "'Zirra! Where's that drink! And bring an extra glass!"

 

“Yes...” Eldrin covered his face with his hand and sunk back into the chair. The mention of what he assumed to be mazte made him ache for a drink, even though Eldrin knew that it would be best to keep a clear head now of all times. But hells, if he was going to spend the next few weeks in jail? Maybe just a little.

 

His hand dropped to his lap.

 

“I don't know what I'm going to do,” he said miserably. “I wish I had dirt on Zoso, something that would really destroy him if I went public, to blackmail him with. Ugh. His family is too poor and unimportant to do anything really scandalous.”

 

“By this point blackmail is probably a moot point,” Zulkan said. The Khajiit, warned by his tone, hurried in with a pitcher and two clay cups and poured them out each a draught of mazte. “He'll have spoken to the guards and been corroborated. No, you'll have to pay the fine.” He sighed, rubbing between his eyes. “I might be able to help you. Nobody died. It can't be that high.” He groped around for the cup and took a sip. Alcohol stung his palate faintly, a familiar and comforting hurt. “But you can't do this again, Eldrin. If you keep attracting the guards' attention there's not much I can do for you.”

 

Eldrin sighed with relief, sinking even further into the chair. He hadn't been aware of how tense he'd been.

 

“Thank you, Uncle. I promise I'll pay you back someday when I've got myself sorted out.” “Someday” was a thing Eldrin truly believed in, even if he had never given any serious thought as to how he would arrive there, wealthy and popular and doing something exceptionally prestigious. The concept of working hard to achieve a goal had so far escaped him, perhaps because he had no real goals.

 

He reached for his cup, holding his breath as he brought it to his lips. The mazte burned going down, a cheaper drink with a much harsher taste than he was used to. Eldrin didn't like it, but he wasn't going to turn down a drink.

 

“I don't intend to do it again, believe me,” Eldrin said earnestly. “In fact I think I'll be lying low for a while after this is cleared up.”

 

Zulkan smiled very slightly at “someday.” Salla had believed in that wonderful and far, far away place as well. She'd never quite got there.

 

“Of course you will. And I think lying low is probably a good idea. Rest up. Avoid trouble.”

 

_ Keep playing with your daedra and getting in trouble so that when I finally have to cut you loose, no one will blame me. _

 

“But I'm very serious about the wash. Don't make me get Bakes-Fine-Breads in here with a bucket.”

 

“I'm going, I'm going,” he said, smiling. He downed the rest of his cup and stood to head upstairs, in an infinitely better mood than before. The situation with Zoso had been cleared up, or at least it would be soon. But what about Garisa Llethri? The more Eldrin thought of it during his bath, the angrier he became. He wasn't going to accept this lying down!  If Garisa wanted to stoop to dirty tricks, Eldrin could do the same. He decided that he would pay that shop under-skar a visit. Possibly nothing would come of it, but it was a start.

 

Eldrin's father must not know. He would argue against retaliation, just like Uncle Zulkan. That made Eldrin even more furious, that his father would let himself be humiliated in such a way. But that was fine. Eldrin had the balls to do his own dirty work, even if his father didn't.

 

He spent a long time scrubbing the stink of the streets from his hair and body and then dressed in his own spare clothes left behind in the guest room, linen underclothes below a blue satin robe less lavish than his usual dress. He did not try so hard to impress his uncle when he spent time at his manor, especially since the older mer seemed completely oblivious to current fashions. Eldrin could only find house slippers, so he was forced to wear his dusty shoes, but he left the rest of his clothes behind to be laundered. He grabbed a dull olive, tasseled shawl to protect from the ash.

 

Because Eldrin was technically responsible for the actions of his summoned servant, Uncle Zulkan sent him off with four thousand drakes, enough to pay for the assault on both Dunmer. It didn't matter that Lothon had tried to strike Eldrin first. He was quite sure the guards had already heard a slightly different version of those events, and arguing probably wouldn't do him any good.

 

Eldrin could have offered to pay for part of the fine with his own gold, but he didn't mention that he still had any. Uncle Zulkan wasn't destitute, and Eldrin might need it soon, and he really did intend to pay him back. Someday.

 

Paying the fine was a simple matter. It was all very businesslike, the courthouse feeling more like a bunch of regular offices than anything else. Dunmer justice was very practical in that way. Just like that Eldrin was free of one major burden and he could walk unhurriedly with his head held high again as he made his way under-skar, humming the foreboding overture from  _ The Horror of Castle Xyr _ to himself as he went.

 

The shop under skar was indeed pushed back under the Southern walkway, the doorway in deep shadow. A sign creaked gently with the movement of the slats above, the crude symbol for an Enchanter worked in white paint on a brown background. In case of full illiteracy there was also a rough drawing of a grand soul gem. This corner of the great shell was quieter, though the sound of feet and voices could be heard in the distance, around the more trafficked merchants closer to the main walkway. It was necessary to climb up and down the grooves of the shell, a half-dozen-little hills, to get to the door.

 

Inside, the light was dimmer than in the main chamber. Red paper lanterns hung above the counter and from the ceiling at intervals. The counter stood in front of a plaster wall that probably concealed the back storage area, crimson beaded curtains hanging to either side of it. There was a thick, cloying scent of incense in the air, not quite floral, not quite musk. Eldrin felt something was familiar about it, but not clear, like a half-remembered dream. Objects lay scattered about the countertop: amulets of various levels of newness and fineness, from a plain bean-shaped clay thing to an elegant gemstone-encrusted golden medallion with four arms like a star; stacks of folded clothing, the fabric almost opalescent when the viewer's eyes moved, a slick greasy sheen; weapons of all shapes, mostly steel and iron.

 

Behind the counter stood a middle-aged Dunmer woman with her hair dressed in braids pinned to a high arch covered in beads, a style suggesting the Ashlander without fulling committing to feathers or bits of wood. There was scarification along her cheekbones, an arched row of dots on each side. Her clothes were particularly fine, a skirt with elaborate silver-threaded embroidery over the dark teal fabric and a loose blouse of dark red velvet embroidered with the same thread. Her leather belt was embossed with a pattern of twirling vines. Beneath this finery her face was calm, distant, hollow, as if she were thinking of things far distant from here. She looked at Eldrin without seeming to see him. 

 

Eldrin walked slowly along the length of the counter, fingering the strands of shiny black hair that fell across his shoulder as he eyed the wares with curiosity and some trepidation. Something about the atmosphere of the shop had quickened his pulse, but Eldrin couldn't quite place why he found it so unsettling. Perhaps it was the shopkeeper- she seemed high on skooma, and that strangely familiar incense might have been meant to mask the spell. Maybe this was all an elaborate cover for a drug den. Still, some of these items were beautifully crafted, and Eldrin wished he had known about the place before his father tightened the coin purse. It was difficult to look at the glittering things he knew he couldn't have, a strange sensation Eldrin had never really experienced before.

 

The shopkeeper’s voice was high, lilting, still seemingly far-away.

 

“Good morning, Serjo. What is your pleasure?”

 

Eldrin jumped just a little when she spoke to him.

 

“Three blessings, Sera. I was looking for- Well.” Eldrin looked down at the counter, brushing his fingers over a silver brooch shaped like a muskfly. The flat, polished gemstones on its long wings were arranged like stained glass, the stone streaked in shades of blue and flecked with gold and green. He could feel an enchantment prickle at his skin, but couldn't tell what it might be.

 

Eldrin suddenly felt very stupid. It was just a rumor that Elade Saschi had bought her enchanted iron here, and if the story were true, they wouldn't sell such things to just anyone. How much did it cost to curse someone, anyway?

 

“I'm not sure,” Eldrin finally said, shrugging one shoulder. His other hand still anxiously stroked his hair. “I need an enchantment that does the opposite of turning you into a shrewd businessman. Something that would make you squander your wealth stupidly, make all the wrong choices. Does that make sense?” Eldrin half expected the woman to snap out of her dreamy stupor and send him away for asking for something illegal.

 

The woman regarded him with a look almost of amusement, gray brows lifting slowly.

 

“What you ask is not bought for coin,” she said. “If one were in possession of such a thing, the price would be quite different.”

 

Eldrin's brows drew together in minor puzzlement, tensing just slightly.

 

“ If one were in possession of such a thing, what would it be bought for?” he asked carefully.  _ This is it, it's definitely skooma related. Now she's going to ask me to break some addict's legs. _

 

The woman looked around slowly, as if checking to see if anyone was listening. There was definitely no one else in the shop with them, and the door remained resolutely shut.

 

“Five miles to the North lies the ancestral tomb of Hlavren Nazthiri,” the other mer said. “In the lowest chamber of the tomb you will find the skull of Hlavren himself. It is bound in crimson, marked with the words that bind him. Bring me this skull and I will give you such a thing as will destroy your enemy from within without ever being suspected. But do not be foolish. A thing once done cannot be undone.”

 

Eldrin stared at the woman blankly for a moment before outrage etched itself across his features.

 

“You want me to desecrate a tomb?” he blurted more shrilly than intended, curled fists landing on the countertop. Then his voice dropped to a hiss for the irrational fear that someone might overhear and he leaned forward, glaring venomously at her. “Lady, what in the name of Almsivi is going on here? What do you need that skull for?”

 

She gazed back serenely, eyes traveling slowly to his fists and back up to his face.

 

“Why do you need an enchanted item that will injure a person's judgement, Serjo?”

 

Eldrin opened his mouth but shut it again almost immediately.  _ I'm the customer here. I ask, you provide! _ he thought, but he realized this was not a normal, everyday thing he was seeking, and getting belligerent with the shopkeeper probably wouldn't help his case. He straightened and backed away one step, bringing his hands to his sides. He was still frowning severely.

 

“I have to think about this,” he said stiffly.

 

“Of course, Serjo. It is not a decision to be made lightly.” She smiled at him gently. “When you are ready, we will be here waiting. Have a pleasant day.”

 

Eldrin didn't return the greeting. He huffed through his nose, whirled away and moved briskly to the exit, although he shut door behind himself like a normal person. He looked up, saw people moving on the walkway over his head, and Eldrin hurried away from the door lest someone look down through the slats at their feet and notice him standing in front of that profane shop. The nerve of her, to ask him such a thing! Eldrin knew he ought to report the place to the Ordinators at once.

 

He was swinging his arms angrily as he climbed over the little hills and valleys of the crab shell, but Eldrin slowed as he calmed. As long as that woman kept nothing around to incriminate her, the Ordinators couldn't do anything. And there were perhaps other ways of taking revenge on Garisa Llethri, but none within his means were immediately obvious to Eldrin. Was he really thinking of robbing a tomb just to get what he wanted? Eldrin paused, disgusted with himself for even considering it.

 

“I call Valka,” he said and glared at the spot in front of him as air and light twisted like heat rising over the ashlands. When the swirling wisps of color had grown opaque and formed the Mazken, Eldrin said irritably, “I hope you enjoyed your respite, Valka. You'll be glad to know I've cleared everything up with the Ordinators--” His tone suddenly lost its edge. “You didn't have a spear before.”

 

\---

 

Valka walked for some time over the purple bracken, little magenta lights occasionally glittering off in the brush or flickering in the leaves of the trees. They lit the way as the sky began to grow dim. Gradually he walked with straighter back as he grew calmer. It had happened before. It would happen again. There was no true advancement for a Mazken made crested and not cloven, and the sooner he accepted that, the better off he would be.

 

But still, he had made it to kiskella once. At least it was possible!

 

He was still mulling this over, quietly treading the pathless heather, when he felt the summons grip him. This time he found himself inside the shell of some giant creature long dead, distant creaks and cricks signifying the presence of walkways high above. There were mortal voices all around, soft and distant. Inevitably there was also Eldrin Llethri. Valka wrapped both hands around the shaft of the spear to lean his weight on it as he surveyed the Dunmer, who was dressed somewhat less finely than he had been the last time Valka had seen him.

 

“That is correct, Master Eldrin,” he said coldly. “I had two daggers. I carried them for longer than you have been alive. And then I suddenly reappeared in the Shivering Isles directly in front of an armed Aureal, died slaying my foe, and lost both my equipment and all of the rank I have gained since my last death. I hope that your little tiff with your mortal rival was entirely worth that.”

 

Eldrin smiled smugly at the Mazken before resuming his walk.

 

“It was entirely worth it to me, yes,” he said mildly, glancing back at Valka with some curiosity. “You lose your rank when you die? So you are -  _ were _ \- someone important in the Isles?”

 

“All rank and privilege is lost on each loss of incarnation,” Valka said. He perforce stalked after Eldrin, spear in hand. His tone gradually calmed as he reminded himself where he was, and why. Railing at Eldrin only increased the probability that he would be punished.

 

_ Punished... and dismissed. Perhaps I will have to see what it takes to really provoke him. _

 

“I am not important in the slightest. I am a male. I have never attained a rank higher than kiskella, and mortal mer were born, grew old and died in Crucible in the time it took me to achieve that.”

 

Looking ahead, the corners of Eldrin's mouth tugged thoughtfully downward, brows knitting. He knew the females outnumbered the males, but he didn't realize Mazken society was matriarchal. Sure, he had probably heard that fact before, but it hadn't stuck with him. Hells, he didn't even think of daedra as having any society to begin with. He had assumed the realm of the Madgod would be total anarchy, daedra roaming around like mindless beasts doing as they pleased until a mortal master granted meaning to their purposeless lives. Now Valka spoke of some military rank Eldrin had never heard of, and apparently his people were at war with the Golden Saints. There was... more depth to Valka's life than Eldrin expected.

 

Eldrin suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Taunting Valka further would bring him no joy, he realized sullenly.

 

“If you're unimportant there and unimportant here, why do you hate serving me so much?” Eldrin asked evenly, glancing over his shoulder. He was still frowning. Surely serving in Nirn could not be worse than dying countless times against immortal enemies in what had to be an eternal stalemate, the daedric armies replenishing their ranks as quickly as they fell.

 

“You disgust me,” Valka said. “You die without slopping food and drink down your throat, and the results of that are even worse. It revolts me that I even possess those same structures, that they might ever have the same functions. You draw vermin to you by the very processes of existing. You spend half your life unconscious, helpless, inert.” As he went on his tone gradually gained venom even as it lost volume, eventually becoming a furious whisper. 

 

“You think your ways, your thoughts, are important, that they have ever mattered or will ever matter. In a thousand years no one will know your name, and yet I am forced to obey  _ you?  _ I am less than the lowest-ranking female in all of Sheogorath's kingdom, but my worth is inestimable compared to  _ yours,  _ Eldrin Llethri. You are nothing. Less than nothing. You are dust. And I will be trapped in your presence only as long as it takes for your mortal body to accept the truth and become what is true at last, and then I will be as free as it is ever possible for me to be.”

 

Eldrin had stopped and turned to face the Mazken as he spoke, and just like that any seed of sympathy that might have been planted in Eldrin's heart was crushed to bits before it could hope to germinate. His face twisted in indignant rage, every muscle growing taut.

 

“Kneel,” Eldrin snapped. The hatred in his eyes would have bored holes through Valka if Eldrin had his way.

 

 

Valka sank to his knees, eyes locked defiantly on the Dunmer's, lip lifted slightly in a sneer. To a woman, to a Mazken of rank, he would not have had the courage; one of them could have had him flayed alive slowly over weeks. At the moment he was too furiously angry to be afraid. He couldn't remember ever feeling that about anything.

 

He yielded up the spear without even trying to hold on even though he had not been told to release it. He thought he knew what was coming. It had happened before.

 

Eldrin flung the spear away and it rattled down the slope of a bony crest. The noise might have attracted the attention of someone above. The Dunmer didn't care.

 

With his left hand Eldrin lifted Valka's helmet to toss it away, and it too clanged against the floor. Then he fisted Valka's hair, tightening his grip close to the daedra's skull hard enough to pull, and jerked the Mazken's head back just enough to expose his throat. He never broke eye contact, glaring furiously down at the vibrant green eyes and seeing his own ugliness reflected there. With his right hand he drew his tanto, and with an underhand grip he thrust the blade into the left side of Valka's throat as hard as he possibly could. He felt the blade scrape bone inside.

 

“Good luck defending against the Aureals with your bare hands,” Eldrin hissed, and he sawed the blade of the tanto toward himself. He could feel it cutting through cartilage and flesh.

 

Valka hissed in pain, teeth bared as he swallowed a groan, one small abortive noise. He would not give Eldrin the satisfaction even in his last moments. Air bubbled out through the widening hole in his throat even as blood spurted and flowed over Eldrin's hands. It was hotter than merish blood, almost boiling. The tears in his eyes were completely involuntary, and he damned himself for that weakness. He remembered vividly each time that he had had his throat cut. First there would be pain, and then ringing in his ears, and the world gradually grew dimmer and further away with each throb as strength fled from his limbs. His eyes lost focus without closing as he toppled slowly to the side. One leg twitched. Then the body dissolved into sparks. Even the blood on Eldrin's hands evaporated.

 

Eldrin's eyes widened and his lips parted in shock as hot blood gushed like a pulsing geyser from the wound, coating his hand, his sword, splattering his robe. There was so much more of it than Eldrin expected and it was red like mortal blood and the smell was overwhelming. His hand flexed against the hilt of the tanto, almost releasing it, but then he clenched down tighter. For a single moment Eldrin's hateful resolve was gone and his eyes reflected fear and disgust at what he had done, but then he stamped it out, gritted his teeth, and yanked the blade back while releasing Valka's hair to watch him fall and die.

 

\---

 

Valka's boots hit the surface of the heather, plants collapsing spongily underfoot as he threw up one gauntlet instinctively. There was no Aureal in front of him. He was fifteen miles from the Wellspring and still a long way from Stipplehand.

 

No helm. No weapon. That was probably going to earn him a reprimand at his destination.

 

“Madgod forgive me, for I have been -”

 

 ** _Foolish? Ha ha! That's a good one, sonny boy._** He paused, blinking, at the voice of deranged glee echoing through his head. **_We all need a little folly now and then. Oh, and you may want to look about yourself. Keep your head._**

 

Valka looked around quickly, and it was at that moment that a young elytra drone rose vertically from a hollow in the ground and drove straight at him, wings humming in an alarming bass drone. He threw himself down as it unfolded a hooked arm and slashed at his unprotected throat. It whistled over its head, and then he cast his Burden upward and rolled quickly aside, crushing the bracken as the giant insect crashed to the ground. He scrambled to seize the last joint of one of its arms, bracing a boot and jerking backwards. There was a  _ crack  _ and a splash of ichor, and then he inverted the severed forearm and drove it at the slim juncture of the creature's head and neck.

 

\---

 

Eldrin jumped at sudden coldness on his hand when the body finally dissolved and Eldrin looked down to see that all traces of blood were gone. Eldrin pressed his trembling hand to his robe front but it was dry. He had never killed anyone before, not even an animal. Any time he had cut a sparring partner it had been minor and accidental. The look on Valka's face had been the ugliest thing Eldrin had ever seen.

 

Slowly Eldrin sheathed his tanto, now clean of all evidence that it had ever slain anything at all, and then picked up both the helmet and the spear. Eldrin glanced upward. No one was looking at him. If anyone had watched him kill the Mazken, they had already grown disinterested and moved along. Rage quickly began to trickle back as Eldrin walked home.

 

Something had to be done about Valka. If he were a mortal slave Eldrin would just beat him, and after two or three times that would be the end of it. Eldrin was pretty sure that wouldn't work on Valka, but the idea of watching someone (or something) fuck Valka in bleeding wounds made Eldrin nearly physically ill. That had only been a threat. Eldrin couldn't do that to his worst enemy.

 

There was probably nothing Valka found abhorrent that Eldrin would be willing to actually do.

 

Honestly, Eldrin would have been happy to never see that sneering purple mug for the rest of his life. But he couldn't let Valka win the power struggle. Eldrin had to assert his dominance for the sake of his own pride, for the pride of all Dunmer. He would think of something.

 

Eldrin stopped by Teris's house to let him know everything was all right now and then he trudged home, feeling very conflicted. He couldn't rob a tomb to further his own goals... it was one of the dirtiest, lowest things a person could ever do. He wouldn't sully himself in that way. That's the decision he had arrived at when Eldrin opened his own front door and was almost immediately jumped by his father, who came out of his office with his arms tucked into the sleeves of his robes. He was trying to look angry, but mostly he just seemed tired.

 

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” Gilan asked coldly. His eyes moved over the articles of Mazken make in Eldrin's hands before coming to rest on his face.

 

“No. Didn't the guards tell you already?” Eldrin said indifferently, without giving his father the privilege of eye contact. He rested the spear against the wall by the door so he could take the shawl off over his head and shake sand out on the floor of the foyer. Then he draped it over his arm and picked up the spear again to head below.

 

“The Savil's have invited us over for dinner a few days from now. Do you think you could manage not to further disgrace the Llethri name between now and then?”

 

Eldrin paused at the top of the steps.  _ I'm the disgrace? The one begging money from the man who ruined him calls ME a disgrace?  _ In that instant Eldrin's decision reversed itself. He had to do  _ something, _ anything, even if it might be the wrong thing. And if he were found out somehow, it didn't even matter! His father already thought Eldrin was lower than dirt.

 

“I'll try,” Eldrin said, voice stiff with anger. “Am I excused, Father?”

 

“Yes. Go away to your room,” Gilan said, disgusted, and turned back toward his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Valka dodged back from the decapitated insect, severed limb uplifted, and watched it flail madly about for several seconds before it finally concluded that it was dead and collapsed. Its last twitches were unpleasant. He did not stay to watch. He had a weapon now, better than nothing, and he turned to resume his walk to the East.

 

As the night wore on, he passed from the bracken into a dark forest of deciduous trees, the color of the leaves seemingly random and seasonless, some green, some purple or black, some red-gold and gently shedding. The little lights were always there, pink or purple in the lands of Dementia. On the Mania side where the hated Aureals roamed they would no doubt be golden or fiery orange. Tiny fireflies flitted about, and purple and blue moths visited the tentacular arabesque flowers. He listened closely, but there was no other sound but his feet rustling in the moss.

 

Was there some Aureal walking toward a guard post on that other side, thinking the same thoughts? Could an Aureal even  _ have _ the same thoughts? They were arrogant, brash. Probably these moments of introspection were foreign to them.

 

An even stranger thought rose to his mind as he walked. He wondered what Eldrin Llethri was doing right now. Why had he been inside the great shell? He had been saying something about things being all right with the guards, so apparently he had managed to avert the consequences of his actions... Again. No wonder he was so absorbed with himself. Nothing he did ever came back to harm him. Perhaps he could live an entire mortal life and never face any real consequences for his actions. That thought made Valka less angry than he expected. If it was true it would be because a mortal life was short, not because the consequences weren't real.

 

There was no point in hating his mortal master for enslaving him. There had been no point in hating Kerghed either. In fact, he thought that on balance he had hated Kerghed less. The mage had done much worse things to him than Eldrin so far had. But things had never been  _ personal  _ with Kerghed. He treated Valka as a useful tool. The question  _ do you hate me  _ had never passed between them because the old mage had not cared, for better or worse. He would not twist the knife (other than in the most clinical way, as part of an experiment) because he no more saw Valka as a person to be tormented than Valka saw him as a person to be loathed. There had been a sort of detente.

 

Eldren hated him. He hated Eldrin. But Eldrin still wanted to summon him and tell him things about the guards. That was a confusing puzzle. He was still thinking about it the next time the summons gripped him.

 

\---

 

“I call Valka.”

 

It was the following day, a few hours after sunrise.  Valka materialized to find himself in Eldrin's lit bedroom, standing before a mer clad head to toe in Gah-Julan styled bonemold. A cloth cowl made of bright jade linen hung from the back of the rounded helm and gathered around his neck, black padding and black gloves beneath to cover the gaps in the armor. The long, sweeping pauldrons of the armor did not seem very practical for combat, but they curved up toward the neck in a cradling shape to protect both from strikes and from ash. The single-slatted visor was pushed back, revealing part of Eldrin's face, but the plate over his mouth was immovable.

 

He still carried his tanto on his belt, but Eldrin was also holding a steel spear as tall as himself, a green ribbon tied below the spearhead. Valka's own spear stood leaning against the wall by the door, his helm on the floor beside it. And beside all of that was a very large knapsack bulging with heavy sacks that felt like sand and some smaller, hard tools. A pair of waterskins were tied to the straps and a bed roll was strapped to the back of it.

 

Valka looked around briefly, elytra arm in one hand tapping against his thigh. Then he turned to look silently at Eldrin. The green-on-black eyes were tired, nothing more.

 

“So you didn't die, did you? Disappointing,” Eldrin said, and pointed behind Valka to his things. “Put on your stupid helmet and pick up that bag. And what the hells is that disgusting thing?"

 

“Unfortunately, your prohibition against lying also denies me the use of sarcasm. It is the limb of an elytra, a giant insect. It attacked me and I retained it as a weapon.” His heart lifted slightly as he recognized his own helm and the issued spear. Perhaps he would have a chance to arrive at Stipplehand in other than complete disgrace after all. He donned one and hefted the other in his free hand, trying not to look relieved. Reluctantly he set the elytra arm aside long enough to put on the knapsack one-handed, then picked it up and shoved it through one strap, pinned against his shoulder. The weight was heavy, but he did not find himself unable to bear it.

 

“If that smears anything on the tile you're licking it up!” Eldrin snapped, inspecting the floor where the arm had touched before huffing and turning toward the door. “Come on.”

 

“Tsamabi!” Eldrin called impatiently at the top of the stairwell. The little gray Khajiit came briskly from the dining room, a wash rag still in her hand. She stopped abruptly when she saw Valka, green eyes growing large as dinner plates and the fur of her nape standing up straight. Her tail and ears rose as if she'd been zapped. She was dressed in clean but plain linens mended many times over.

 

“Y-yes, Master Eldrin!” she managed to squeak after taking a moment to collect her wits.

 

“Dispose of this... thing,” he said, pointing to the elytra arm.

 

Tsamabi's eyes darted back and forth between the severed limb and her master's face several times, simultaneously too stunned and too fearful to chose an action, but the scowl on Eldrin's brow finally compelled her to scoot forward meekly to take the arm away. Her ears flattened as she came close to the Mazken and she looked down, avoiding his eyes, and she shuddered when her hands touched the chitinous limb.  

 

Valka surrendered the arm to the Khajiit politely, bowing his head. Her obvious fear confused him. Was she not a woman?  Then she scurried off the way she had come to throw it away and Eldrin was already moving out the door.  Valka turned to follow Eldrin with a slight frown.  

 

It was bright out, cool but warming, a slight wind stirring ash around their ankles. Eldrin set off toward the Eastern exit of town. He could not go North directly, the hills at the base of Red Mountain were far too steep. He would have to follow the foyada as it lazily wound its way East, then turned Northwest to follow the Ghostfence.

 

The sky was strange to Valka, blue and speckled with white cloud. He lowered his head to let his eyes adjust in the shadow of his helm. When he looked up again, following Eldrin, he saw the distant shoulders of the mountain rising high above, ringed at its base by something that from here seemed iridescent and insubstantial. As far off as it was, the ring of glittering purple-blue must actually be many times as tall as Valka, which made the mountain unimaginably vast. Before when they were outside they had been in alleys, or the ash had hidden it from him. He checked in his stride for a moment as he stared at it, then moved quickly to catch up, one hand on the strap of the knapsack as the other held his spear. He gripped it very tightly, anchor to what was real in this strange place.

 

“Do you want to know where we're going?” Eldrin asked after some time, almost conversationally, without looking back at the Mazken.

 

“Yes, Master Eldrin,” Valka said. Knowing probably would not help him, as ignorant as he was of this part of this world. But then, perhaps Eldrin did not intend to tell him. Perhaps it was the opening of another punishment.

 

“We're going to a tomb. Have you ever seen a Dunmer tomb before?” He slowed, letting Valka come up beside him before resuming his pace. He hadn't lowered the visor.

 

“I don't believe so,” Valka said. “Before you summoned me my experience of this world was limited to caves, ruins, and Kerghed's tower.”

 

He felt a faint dread curling in the pit of his stomach. Shutting him up inside a tomb would be a torment of some duration, because the terms of the summoning would not allow him to kill himself. Without physical needs he would be trapped inside until he could dig or break his way out. He was fairly certain that he could claw his way out of even a stone building in a few decades, but after that long completely alone he might not be sane. The Madgod favored insane mortals. He had never heard of a mad Mazken or Aureal. Who knew what would be his fate then?

 

But no, he tried to reassure himself. Eldrin's act of killing had been impulsive. This would require a sort of planning of which he did not believe the Dunmer capable. Best not suggest it to him if he had not thought of it.

 

“Is that so?”  Eldrin said.  “A tomb is a much quieter place than a ruin, I'm sure. It's a sacred place where living people seldom go. This one, the Nazthiri ancestral tomb, is deep beneath Red Mountain.” He pointed needlessly at the towering ruddy-gray shape on the horizon. “It's a bit special because there's a maze in the basement with lots of dead ends. There will probably be some skeletal guardians patrolling in there, but you and I together will be able to take care of them easily. After we clear the way, we're going to find a dark little dead end and then, with your help, I'm going to seal you behind a wall with that stucco you're carrying. And do you know what my final orders to you will be before I walk off and leave you?”

 

Eldrin stopped and turned to look raptly at Valka's face, grinning cruelly.

 

“I'll order you to lay down, helpless and inert, as if asleep. And you will wait there in this state until someone happens upon you. Oh, I'm sure it shouldn't be too long, perhaps a century or two? That's nothing to you, is it not? Some looter or custodian of the tombs might eventually notice the section of wall that looks different from all the rest. I'll be dead before too long, but you'll still be there, quietly waiting in the dark until someone comes along to end you.”

 

Eldrin had the satisfaction of hearing Valka's breath catch, eyes widening in unfeigned horror as he stumbled to a halt. He breathed rapidly for a couple of seconds, eyes locked on the Dunmer's. There was black sclera visible all around the iris.  _ He didn't think of it. He thought of something infinitely more terrible. _

 

“Well done,” he said very quietly, when he felt able to speak. “You have created a torment worse than I was able to imagine.”

 

He would be locked away forever, never again to see the sky above the Isles. Never again to hear a voice, not even a reprimanding officer. No mortal thing was eternal, and at some point someone or something would break through the wall; but by that point the thing that lay waiting in insane, crushing silence would not be Valka any more.

 

Eldrin tittered gleefully. That was the visceral emotion, the true fear Eldrin wanted to see, not the cold hatred, not the ingratiating smile that infuriated him even more.

 

“I might be persuaded to change my mind if you asked nicely, although I already know you're too proud for that,” Eldrin said flippantly, shrugging, before he resumed his pace. He'd been hoping Mazken didn't have a stupidly good sense of smell like betmer did, otherwise Valka might know he was carrying several sacks of saltrice, not sand and lime. But based on his response, that was obviously not the case. Perhaps not this moment, but at some point Valka would break and he would beg and then Eldrin would have that victory over him for the rest of both their lives.

 

Of course, Valka thought. Eldrin didn't want to lose his valuable summoned daedra forever. He wanted to see Valka beg for mercy. Conflicting emotions warred within the Mazken's breast as he stood motionless, watching Eldrin start to walk away. He tried without success to control his ragged breathing.  _ Fear. Rage. Deep, seething hatred. _

 

Was Eldrin Llethri petty and cruel enough to do it? If he pushed it to that line, would Eldrin render him to that fate?

 

He had cut Valka's throat for nothing more than words when Valka was unable to disobey him, without the power to do him harm. Valka was carrying enough weight to justify the idea that Eldrin had planned for it very coldly.

 

_ No, I see what is happening here. It is not enough that I obey. He wants me crushed and fearful of him forever. He wants my complete submission. If he cannot get it I am of no use to him, and it is not enough that he throw me away, he must ensure that I suffer for all time. _

 

_ Kerghed with all his experiments was a kind mer compared to this one. _

 

There was a soft  _ thip-thip  _ as Valka sank to his knees in the dust, one trembling hand resting on the spear.

 

“Please,” he said, his voice barely audible, taut with fear and loathing.

 

Eldrin stopped, frowning. That was too easy. Valka was supposed to stew over his fate for a while longer yet. He turned, narrowing his eyes at the Mazken, wondering if this was real and not just a contrived display for Eldrin's benefit.

 

“'Please' isn't a request,” Eldrin said coldly. Already he could feel something twist in his guts. He'd finally been able make Valka see him as an actual threat and not some fragile mortal whose life and deeds therein bore no gravity. Eldrin must have respect from  _ one _ person. If he backed down now that would be lost, but- was Valka's hand trembling? Eldrin's own hand tightened imperceptibly on his spear.

 

This wasn't bringing him the joy he had thought that it would, just as Valka's death had not made him feel any bit of satisfaction. His face hardened, eyes visible but mouth hidden by the helm.

 

 

For the first time since his first summons Valka turned his eyes away from Eldrin's, shoulders twitching convulsively as he dry-heaved. “Hk. Khk.” His own heart thundered in his ears for the first time in centuries. He had learned not to fear pain – but all daedra fear the darkness.

 

It was unbearable. He felt that his mind would break. But the alternative was worse, so much worse.

 

The words must be clear, or Eldrin would just make him say it again. He swallowed, breathed, forced his voice out level. It still cracked, forcing him to partly repeat himself.

 

“Please do not – please do not send me into the dark.”

 

The show Valka put on was disgusting to Eldrin. A stoic daedra did not seem so person-like. But this... the terror in his eyes, the sound that he made... it made Eldrin feel like he had tortured another mer. Parts of Eldrin were at war with one another now, and he could feel the excuses rising to the surface.  _ His kind were created for the sole purpose of servitude, whether to mortals or to a Prince should make no difference. I have my own will. His will is only through instinct, like an animal. _

 

_ How black my heart, roasting fiercely. _ How many times had Eldrin heard that at Temple sermons without stopping to consider what it meant? Why did it occur to him now?

 

“Get up,” Eldrin snapped impatiently, as if Valka had not been doing exactly as Eldrin wished him to do.  The command jerked Valka to his feet. He almost fell again under the weight of knapsack and weak knees, but his hand on the spear saved him.  

 

“I don't want to seal you in,” Eldrin said.  “You're more valuable at my side.”  _ Don't give in so easily. It's too obvious. _ “But we're still going to the tomb - I have other business there. I could still change my mind. Remember that.”

 

Eldrin whirled and stalked angrily ahead without looking back to make sure the Mazken was following. He already knew that he would. He had no choice.  

 

Valka’s breathing was harsh for minutes after as he followed Eldrin, eyes fixed on the ground.  It was at least that long until he could think any coherent thought. He gibbered and railed inside his own head. When at last things began to clear the whelming terror died back to a slow burn of sick dread.

 

_ This is how I will live for the next hundred and fifty years. _ Eldrin had managed in three days to devise a worse punishment than any he had ever known. What torments now awaited him at this mer's hands?

 

There was no comfort in praying to the Master, who knew no fear. The Mazken and the Aureal gathered to him for his strength, not his mercy. Valka walked on in silence, and the apples of his eyes were so small that each iris almost looked solid green.

 

Eldrin didn't speak and he rarely glanced aside at Valka as they moved through the foyada, following the only possible trail. There were hardly any living things, just the occasional tangle of trama and a few old dead trees whose bark and limbs had been battered away by high winds over the years. There were hardly even cliff racers, having no prey to hunt. At one point they saw a racer wedged between boulders on the mountainside, keening mournfully, neck hanging limp against the rock. Every once in a while it would weakly shuffle its wings in an attempt to escape.  _ Blighted. _

 

Valka stared at the trapped and sickly creature until he could no longer do so without turning to walk backwards. He had a vague memory that he had seen one before, but he couldn't recall where; it must have been long, long ago, perhaps in the exterior of some ruin where Kerghed had brought him to strike down the scamps and the clannfear. Its suffering would be brief, and then over forever. He lowered his head to fix his eyes on the ground again as he shuddered.

 

The shimmering purple-blue wall that was the Ghostfence drew nearer until they could make out the massive pillars that held the top rim of the fence aloft. Every pillar was carved with sacred imagery, either the Tribunal, or St. Nerevar, or scenes from the Battle of Red Mountain. Much of the carvings were chipped and eroded, the lines impacted with ash. From below the rim the wall itself fell like a veil, pure vibrant magicka shifting and swirling across its surface with a multi-tonal hum that Eldrin could feel all the way down to his bones. It was deeply humbling to be near it. 

 

The Mazken at last looked up when he felt the ambient power begin to seep into his body, tingling up and down his spine. It was revivifying even if it was not from the source that was familiar to him. The structure in front of him was the largest made thing he had yet seen, though he did not understand many of the images carved into the great pillars.  The foyada had led them right to its base and continued through it in one direction, while another path branched Northwest to gradually diverge from the wall. The translucency was something like stained glass, and beyond it Eldrin could just make out humanoid shapes shuffling stiffly along. 

 

“I don't suppose you know anything about the Ghostfence?” Eldrin asked, finally breaking the long silence.  This was the power of Eldrin's own gods given form and he wanted Valka to know it.  

 

“No, Master Eldrin.” Valka turned to eye Eldrin warily.  He didn't see any easy way for the Dunmer to trap him inside one of the pillars. Possibly the membrane was adhesive, or a trap specifically to daedra. 

 

“This was--”

 

A wave of odd sensations washed over him suddenly- deja vu coupled with dizzying confusion, and for a moment Eldrin wasn't sure whether he was awake or dreaming. Forgotten memories from the night before engulfed him, overwhelmingly vivid.

 

_ His limbs were too heavy, rubbery, boneless. Eldrin couldn't raise them and he could not tell whether he was lying down or standing. The air was thick with a familiar cloying scent that almost choked him when he breathed, but he became progressively lighter and detached as he inhaled it and soon Eldrin did not worry about anything at all. His hand finally floated up to touch his face and Eldrin felt it cave inward under his fingertips, as if the front half of his skull were being dissolved in acid below his skin. His facial structures collapsed as if melting. His eyes sank, liquefied, and ran down the bowl of his face but Eldrin could still see in every direction all around himself. It was too dark to make anything out other than black, angular shapes limned by a dull red glow, the source of which he could not find. _

 

_ It was horrible. It  _ should _ be horrible. But Eldrin only felt calm acceptance. He wanted to bask in that sensation forever. There were voices, just above the threshold of his hearing, and Eldrin craved to know the words they spoke. He would be able to understand them someday. For now he shuddered and enjoyed the dull, calm fog. _

 

Then the images were gone and Eldrin was in the foyada with his mouth still hanging open, and he remembered feeling calm in the dream but now he was horrified and disoriented. His hand slapped to the helm over his forehead and Eldrin stumbled back a step.

 

_ Next time it looks like I need help.  _ Valka's free arm darted out to catch him around the waist without the slightest thought. He bit his tongue rather than speak. If this was some mortal weakness Eldrin would be angry that he acknowledged it.

 

Eldrin dug the butt of his spear against the stony ground to hold some of his weight, but Valka was already there and for a moment Eldrin thought he was being attacked. He turned to shove against the daedra's chest with his left gauntlet before sanity took hold and he realized Valka had only meant to catch him, but he stepped away from the embrace. His heart was pounding, eyes wild with fear.  

 

Valka did not move in the slightest. It was like pushing a tree. He let go when it was clear Eldrin was definitely both trying to move away and able to remain standing on his own. The Dunmer had felt cold. Was that normal? He couldn't remember. No. Yes. Mortals were cold. Kerghed's hands had been freezing, always.

 

“What are you- what happened?” Eldrin asked stupidly, then realized it was stupid. He'd remembered a dream, but never before had a memory been so vivid or disorienting. Something was wrong.

 

“I don't know,” Valka said wearily. “You were still, and then you stumbled.” He looked up at the glowing membrane and back down at the Dunmer, frowning. “Does this Fence do this to you?”

 

_ Lord and Master, this mer is obviously aspected with Mania. He should be inflicted on one of the Aureals.  _ There was no answer to his prayer. He had not really expected one. The Madgod tended to appear or respond when he was less expected; it took a powerful offering to attract his attention to one time and place deliberately.

 

“It shouldn't,” Eldrin said uncertainly, following Valka's gaze. He could no longer see anything moving on the other side. Had they merely shuffled out of view, or had he hallucinated them? Eldrin felt a prickling down his spine and along his arms.

 

“Let's get out of here. It doesn't matter. I'm fine,” he said quickly and hurried along down the foyada, trying not to look at the Ghostfence or whatever lay beyond it to his right. He felt as though someone were watching him. It was very disconcerting.

 

_ The eyes of your ancestors are watching you preparing to rob a tomb, _ he thought bitterly, although Eldrin knew it was something else that had made him so unsettled. Although he knew nothing about the particulars of the Nazthiri ancestral tomb, (the maze in the basement had been a lie) he  _ had _ inspected a map and knew that it was coming up soon. As the foyada curved away from the Ghostfence, a wall of black volcanic rock rose between them and it, and it was here that a Velothi-style double arch sheltering a wooden door protruded from the hill.  _ Nazthiri _ was carved into the uppermost lintel in Dunmeris.

 

Eldrin stopped in front of it, hand tight on his spear, lips pressed together.

 

_ Am I really going to do this? _ he thought, dread growing in the pit of his belly, and then he felt Valka's eyes on him from behind. Any sign of hesitation on his part might be interpreted as backing down from his threat. Eldrin shut the visor on his helm.

 

“Be alert. There will be guardians,” he said, touching the handle experimentally - not trapped, he didn't think- and pulled it open, dry, dusty air blowing against his helm from within when he did. As an afterthought, Eldrin added, “And Valka? Never, ever tell anyone you've been here with me.”  He stepped into the dark corridor, his eyes slowly adjusting to the faint glow of fire in a wall sconce further down.

 

Valka felt a lurch in his gut as he looked up at the name above the door. Tombs were a strange and unpleasant idea to a daedra, places to commemorate mortal death. It redoubled the horror of Eldrin's earlier threat. For a moment he felt paralyzed, not able even to take a step forward. The Dunmer's voice dragged him across the threshold.

 

“I acknowledge my orders,” Valka said. It was not a phrase he normally used in a tongue other than daedric. He tried to rouse himself to pay closer attention as he walked beside Eldrin through the narrow doorway, but he felt leaden now, heavy and dull. Strange fire – orange rather than blue – lit the sloping hallway below. Valka moved ahead, spear grasped in both hands. There was a second door at the bottom of the corridor. The air felt dense and cool, and he thought that he heard voices just below the threshold of hearing, whispering words that could not be deciphered.

 

He held the spear at the ready as he opened the door with his other hand. Another corridor stretched out ahead and dove down out of sight. There were doors to right and left, and in the near distance he heard a rhythmic clicking. Something round and pale rose above the threshold of the distant slope. Gradually it rose upward, revealing empty sockets, a triangular ragged hole where no nose was, naked grinning teeth above a column of spine. The skeleton opened its jaw and made a noise somewhere between a creak and a groan, ragged and high-pitched, and then he could see all of it as it charged them. The undead wielded a round blackened shield and an axe so old that the blade was more rust than iron.

 

Valka watched it draw nearer with a complete lack of interest. Only the dull, bitter fear of Eldrin drove him as he inverted the spear and drove the butt forward to knock the shield aside. Then he swept the point down to hack vertebra from vertebra, rib from rib. The ancient pelvis crumbled to dust as the point struck it, and the bone man fell to pieces, weapon and shield unbearably loud as they rattled on the floor. Valka silently watched them fall. On the shaft of the spear his hand still shook.

 

Eldrin cringed inwardly watching Valka hack the skeletal guardian to pieces.  _ This is wrong, so wrong. _ But he steeled himself and strode forward when the skeleton fell, taking care not to crush the bones under his boots.

 

Eldrin pointed at the downward sloping corridor and let Valka go first. The woman from the shop had said Hlavren Nazthiri would be found in the lowest room. Eldrin didn't even want to look beyond the other doors. Perhaps if the Mazken did the fighting, some small part of Eldrin's guilty conscience might be soothed...

 

The walkway spiraled around as it lead them deeper, and then widened into a longer hall lined with rows of ceramic urns on big flat pedestals, two dim flames on either side the only source of light. Little trinkets were carefully placed on the countertops, some glittering with enchantment. There was a faded, moth-eaten cloth dolly propped against one of the urns, the hair a tangle of red yarn. Eldrin had never felt so despicable, but seeing that somehow made him feel even worse.

 

An entire skeleton was laid out on a pedestal in the center of the room, and not far beyond it was a door to the next chamber. The skeleton must have been the remains of someone important; a very fine ebony longsword lay beside it, and several elaborate rings were arranged in an arc around the skull. A book was placed under the skeletal fingers of its left hand. Eldrin didn't get close enough to look at the title.

 

Valka looked around blankly at the objects displayed on their counters as he passed them. They were obviously offerings, but to what? Jewelry and weapons he understood. No daedra asked for a sacrifice of dolls and clothes. There were scrolls. There were bottles whose decorative shape probably indicated alcohol or expensive potions. At one point there was a quilt draped carefully over one side of a counter, pinned in place by the weight of an urn. It was crudely made, the stitches uneven, and it looked as though the patches that composed it had been cut from old clothes. The quilt was newer than some of the other things. Many were covered with the dust of years.

 

Only when he saw the skeleton laid on its own pedestal surrounded by finery did he understand. He felt something at last, a jolt of fear and adrenaline.

 

_ These are offerings to the dead. _

 

Was every one of these perished mortals conscious somewhere, aware that they had been given something? Were they watching now, furiously offended at this intrusion? Why  _ was  _ Eldrin here?

 

Eldrin was quite certain he heard ragged breathing, and then he saw the light shift at the bottom of the door. Something was standing there, and very few things inside a tomb could breathe.  _ Bonewalker _ .  It would have already heard their heavy footsteps, he was sure, so Eldrin did not attempt to creep as he moved toward the door. It would be best if he pulled it open to let Valka strike quickly.

 

Eldrin transferred his spear to his left hand, right hand on the door, and locked eyes with Valka to make sure he understood.  

 

The voices here had risen to the threshold of a soft whisper.  Valka was aware of them every second, from all directions. The fine hair on the back of his neck stood up as Eldrin turned suddenly to meet his eyes, hand on the door. He looked reflexively down and to the left.

 

And then the door opened, creaking softly on hinges unused in years upon years.


	6. Chapter 6

Eldrin stepped aside quickly and pulled the door open along with himself, and the pale creature on the other side of the door lurched forward. It was roughly as tall as Valka, undead yet sourced from no species of man or mer. It looked as though it had been rotting for days, skin having flaked off on parts of it to reveal muscle and tendon and sometimes even plain white bone. It stank of death, the stench a punch to Eldrin's face even with the door between him and it. The face seemed swollen and distorted, jagged yellow teeth clearly visible inside a lipless mouth. It looked as though its nose and ears had sloughed off naturally, the eyes sunken and shrunk so that they were barely even visible beneath the folds of skin. Bones protruded from its body at odd angles in places they had no business even being.

 

Valka looked up into a face that was not a face, into shriveled white eyes disappearing into lumpy misshapen brows. The thing breathed stench and horror out of a hole that must be a mouth because it was below where the nose had been. It swiped at his chest with a hand peeled down to bone and tendon. He did not attempt to avoid it as he leveled the spear at the center of its body. Pain raked across his naked skin and then the spearhead embedded itself in the thing with a bizarre  _ sklush,  _ as if he had cut into a pile of paper half of which was wet and half of which was dry.

 

The undead continued to press forward, forcing him back even as it walked up the shaft of the spear. He felt as well as heard it emerge from the thing's back without stopping it. Valka smashed his helmed forehead forward into the lumpy features, glad that he need not touch it with his skin. It stopped for long enough for him to step back, jerking at the spear.

 

Eldrin released the door and shifted the spear back into his right hand, looking up just in time to see the skeleton on the pedestal behind Valka rise. Its hands closed around the longsword as it swung its feet around to the ground with a light rattle.

 

“Valka!”

 

The skeleton ran at the Mazken but Eldrin dashed forward, past the bonewalker as it walked itself through with Valka's spear. He knocked the ebony blade away with his own weapon just as the skeleton tried to skewer Valka's back. The thing hissed at him, jaw clacking back and forth, and this time it slashed down at Eldrin spear. The heavy sword dragged his weapon down on impact and Eldrin's spearhead smacked against the floor, so he swept the spear at the skeleton's feet. It anticipated the move and darted back, just out of reach.

 

Valka's spear came free with some resistance, scraping against bone on the way out, and leaving the spear slicked with rotten black blood. The bonewalker roared when it had recovered from the brief stun, throaty and coarse. It raised its hands and fiery red magicka exploded from the palms to engulf the Mazken. Eldrin had neglected to warn Valka about the strength drain.

 

_ Sudden movement. Eldrin's voice, shout of warning and alarm, clash of weapons. _ Valka twitched to one side in time to see the Dunmer attempting to trip the skeleton in the fine robe, now animate and wielding an ebony sword.  _ We do not belong here. This is his house, not ours. _

 

In the moment of his distraction he realized that Eldrin had in fact prevented him from being stabbed in the back, and then magicka flared from his left as the forgotten bonewalker reached for him, perpetually grinning. The noise it made was felt as much as heard, and then he felt the spear suddenly grow heavy in his arms. The weight of the knapsack dragged him to his knees. Suddenly it was heavier than the weight of a body. He struggled to free himself from the straps as the undead raised a clawed foot with unerring purpose. He had only one arm loose when it kicked him in the chest. There was an audible SNAP on the right side as it impacted his pectoral and the ribs under it. He gasped, even now not wishing to give Eldrin the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

 

The thing was off balance for that one instant. Valka seized the spear with both arms, though one was still fouled by a strap, and thrust upward. The spear went in again under what one might tentatively call the left breast, and a gout of horrid dark ichor sprayed over the shaft. The undead convulsed, throwing its clawed hands up, and then dissolved into sparks.

 

Valka freed himself of the other strap and scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, looking around for Eldrin. Something fluttered inside him with every inhalation. He could feel his right lung starting to collapse, every slightest movement a stab of agony as breathing grew harder and harder.

 

Eldrin's eyes flicked sideways briefly at the noise of bones snapping, saw Valka on his knees, and sudden terror swelled in his breast. If Valka died, Eldrin would be finished before he had time to summon him again.

 

He'd let himself be distracted. Eldrin moved stupidly, thrusting at the skull just as the skeleton jerked aside and stabbed into the inside of his right elbow where only padding protected him. Eldrin screamed and shuffled back, yanking his spear up to a guarding position. The wound in his arm burned with the movement. The padding rapidly soaked through and excess blood pattered to the floor.

 

Valka took two steps forward, left hand seizing the back rim of Eldrin's cuirass to haul him behind the Mazken. He released magicka through that hand even as he parried another sword-thrust with the spear. The flat of the blade slammed the weapon's shaft back into his chest, producing a hiss of pain: he was no longer strong enough to push the thing away. The skeleton's grinning jaws clattered an inch from his face. He imagined, as spots began to form in front of his eyes, that he saw something moving in the deep darkness of the empty sockets.

 

He needed his left hand, his unwounded side. He could not wait to see if the Dunmer was completely healed: his rapid calculation passed the test of obedience.  _ Without my left hand I die. If I die Eldrin dies. _

 

Valka dragged his left arm around in an overarm swing, gauntleted fist clenched. It smashed into the skeleton's cheekbone with an audible clack, but he was too weak to destroy the thing that way. The undead was driven back a step, disengaging the ebony blade. It was fast, faster than the first one had been: it attempted to decapitate him immediately afterward. He stepped inside the swing, gauntlet raised again.  Metal met bone with another sharp concussion as the sword clashed against the back of his helmet. The impact was jarring, and for a moment his vision was completely white, but he pushed forward anyway, thrusting the spear forward and upward against what felt like the weight of a xivilai dragging at his arms.

 

He did not see it smash the skeleton's face and skull, but Eldrin did. There was an explosion of dust, powdering his face. Valka sank to his knees to the noise of bones raining down into fabric. The ebony blade clattered to the floor behind him as the skeleton's arms and fingers disjointed one from the other.

 

His vision did not completely clear, still dark around the edges. He could hear his own wheezing breath, but it seemed distant, far away.  _ This incarnation is ending. _

 

“Urk,” Eldrin grunted when he was yanked back, and then the wound closed up before he was even aware what was happening. He was transfixed by terror and awe as he watched Valka demolish the skeleton, an unstoppable force despite his injuries. He instinctively flinched back and jerked one arm up to shield his face when bone and blade came flying, but it didn't land anywhere near him.

 

Then he stared stupidly at the Mazken's heaving back for a moment before he finally got his feet to work. Eldrin's bonemold boots thudded loud and dull as he ran the few short steps, left hand falling to Valka's left pauldron as he released his heal. It was not nearly as strong as Valka's. The wounds would close slowly and Eldrin felt all of his magicka leeched away as he cast the spell a second and third time, leaving him to feel drained in a way he had seldom experienced.

 

Valka felt the weight of a hand on his pauldron and shut his eyes, waiting for the inevitable contact of tanto with throat. It was the most logical thing. Disincarnate, he would be resummoned without wounds or weakness, ready to fight again on Eldrin's behalf.

 

_ Faint blue light, visible through his eyelids. Things creeping and rearranging inside his body. Pain fading. _

 

_ What? _

 

Valka's eyes fluttered open as magicka sank into body and bone. His right lung reinflated slowly as air expired from his chest cavity. He turned to look up at Eldrin in surprise and confusion, eyes open wide. Then he remembered, and his gaze dropped as he reached to haul himself upright, propped by the spear. There was no more pain, but weakness still dragged at his limbs. He went to try to pick up the knapsack. It did not budge from the floor.

 

Eldrin backed away quickly when he saw Valka begin to move.

 

“That was amazing,” he blurted. Truly, he had never seen such a display of raw power and skill. The wonder hidden by his helm turned to confusion watching Valka struggle with the bag. “Damn it, you were cursed? I don't think banishing you to the Isles and calling you again will fix it. You have to be restored at a shrine. Do you have those?”

 

_ What was amazing? That I followed your orders, as I am physically compelled to do?  _ He gave Eldrin another confused look, this one briefer but almost panicked, jaw working. Nothing the Dunmer had done in the last five minutes had made even the slightest sense to him. Perhaps whatever had happened to him outside truly had deranged his mind, rendered him from cruelly purposeful to simply mad.

 

He had been asked a direct question, saving him from having to respond to something nonsensical. 

 

“No, Master Eldrin,” Valka said. He turned to drag the knapsack across the floor toward the open doorway, spear in his other hand, watching for any further dead ready to defend their places of rest from these interlopers.

 

Eldrin took note of the strange look on Valka's face and felt himself suddenly grow irritated. He couldn't accept a compliment from a worthless mortal, was that it? No, Eldrin realized. It was because Eldrin had shown him nothing but cruelty up to that moment. He lifted the visor from his face now that there was no danger, forcing a cold mask back on his face that in some ways did reflect his mood. Eldrin did not like himself very much in that moment for a number of reasons.

 

Within the door lay a small square chamber. Against the opposite wall there were three round stone-rimmed pits. The design of them said  _ pool  _ to Valka, but they were filled with ash or gray dust, not with water. Along the rim of each were laid scraps of dried plants, some so shriveled that they could no longer be identified. One fireflower was still bright, glowing faintly in the dim. The whispering voices were loudest of all here, though he still understood no words. Valka drew to a halt in the center of the room, looking around in vain for the source. There was a sort of narrow pyramid in each corner behind him, on the wall that held the door. Each had a dull violet stone set in a stucco rim on the room-facing side.

 

“I am sorry,” he said aloud. “I will disturb you no longer than I must.”

 

“Leave that, we'll get it on the way back,” Eldrin said quietly, moving into the chamber. He cringed when Valka spoke.  _ So he understands what we're doing. _

 

In the very center of the centermost pit was a skull. It was bound up with crimson leather straps, the color still vivid through the ash and dust. Every exposed surface of bone was covered in writing in the daedric script. To draw near to it was to feel the increase of power under tremendous restraint.

 

“That's very sentimental of you,” Eldrin said bitterly. He was honestly shocked by that. Valka didn't care about living mortals, so why did he suddenly seem to care for the dead?

 

“No, Master Eldrin.” Valka shook his head, one hand releasing the handle of the knapsack with relief. That, too, confused him. “A Mazken cannot be near a fundamental order that is being disturbed and not know it. To seek out the ordered, the complete, and break and scatter it is the nature of our Lord and Master just as it is yours.” Revelation burst across his mind. It was not a pleasant sensation. He stopped, turning to look at Eldrin with another strange expression, mingled horror and awe. “I – I understand something now that has often confused me.”

 

_ MY nature is to break and scatter the ordered?  _ Eldrin thought. _  What is he talking about? He's been with me three days and every fight I've been in was escalated to that point by someone else! _

 

“And what's that?” Eldrin asked, genuinely curious, but wary of the answer. He had turned to look at Valka, one hand on his hip, spear against the ground. Turning his back to the skull made his skin crawl, and again Eldrin felt the sickening sense that something was watching him.

 

Valka looked away from that direct stare, stiffening his spine against the urge to take a step back.  Eldrin felt some relief.  The Mazken was learning his place. That meant Eldrin would not have to be cruel anymore. He sighed through his nose, a release of tension.

 

“A daedra often wonders why the Princes so desire the company of mortals,” Valka said. “The worship of perishable creatures. But the answer is that you are like him in ways that we are not.” The taste of it was bitter in his mouth. “He needs us to keep just enough order that  _ you  _ may survive in his kingdom.”

 

“And how does it feel to know that you are not the chief interest of your own Prince?” Eldrin asked mildly, and turned to approach the skull, his apprehension growing with every step. The energy in the room seemed all wrong for a place of rest. He wondered if Valka understood the insult he implied by saying that Dunmer were anything like Sheogorath. His curiosity about Valka's world outweighed any offense, Eldrin was surprised to realize. There were mortals living in the Madgod's realm? How ghastly.

 

 

“I am consumed with horror,” Valka said. His voice was paradoxically level. There was no reacting to that. He felt that his body was running out of the physical capacity to raise his pulse, veins beating in his head. It made just as much sense to walk calmly over and crouch down in front of the skull as it would to clutch at his skull and scream. He wanted more than anything to shrink to a pinpoint and cease to exist.

 

_ Everything I was told was wrong. The Aureal are arrogant and foolish, but so are the Mazken. We are not his favored servants. We are the caregivers of his pets, the handmaidens of his true loves. _

 

Eldrin shot Valka a confused sideways glance. He thought the Mazken was being sarcastic, but that wasn't actually possible.  _ Why serve the Madgod, then? You can't chose otherwise, can you? _

 

"Do you have any idea what this writing says?" Eldrin asked, pointing down at the skull. It was bound up like a slave's might be, yet it had been placed in the central pit as if to honor it. Something about this was not right.

 

Valka attempted to read the words around the straps, rendering them into Dunmeris. “These are the words of binding in the name. These are the words of holding in the name. These are the words of restraint. These are. That he may never rise unbidden. That his power may be turned to us again. That he. That we.” He leaned slightly to one side, trying to read around the edges. “The Tribe Unmourned. Consumed by our sins, we. Ending of the words.”

 

The sensation of pressure in his head increased as he spoke, until he felt a buzzing in his skull like the sound of a hive. Valka felt dampness on his face and wiped at his nose. His gauntlet came away bloody.

 

Eldrin knelt beside Valka as he read the words, which at first seemed like gibberish. Eldrin's eyes narrowed on the skull, more confused than ever.

 

_ The Tribe Unmourned.  _ Eldrin's face contorted in horror and he looked sharply up at Valka, but images flashed rapidly through his mind's eye and he was suddenly detached from the room, from his body. The spear dropped from his hand and rattled on the floor. Valka turned sharply on one knee to see his eyes blank and distant inside the helm. The pain in his head receded as he stopped reciting the words.

 

“Master Eldrin?”

 

_ Eldrin was alone in a black void, a red glow at the very edge of his vision. The whispering voices rose higher and higher until they were screaming in Eldrin's ears, still too many, too jumbled for him to make out the words. _

 

_ Row upon row of desiccated body lay lined upon the floor in a dark hall, eyes and mouths sewn shut, all covered in a layer of dust as if they had been stored in that state for years. Great square columns stretched up toward a vast, dark ceiling _

 

_ A writhing mass of fleshy tubes pinned his every limb, sliding over his body, wrapping around his face. He was smothered, blinded. They were almost like dreugh tentacles but slender and dry. He could hear discordant music, a hundred flutes playing different songs while a drum pounded in his ears to the pulsing heartbeat of the living tubes that bound him. _

 

It was all gone as quickly as it had happened, and Eldrin thought he must have seen a thousand horrible images crammed into a single moment, but most of them slipped away like water through his fingers. His head ached, heart thundering loud and wild. Blood was smeared on Valka's upper lip.

 

“Valka,” he gasped. “What-?” His helmet was suffocating him. It was too much like the mass of tentacles that had pinned him. Eldrin struggled with the clasps in a panic and finally ripped it free, gasping for breath, terrified with every inhalation that he would taste that strange, sweet incense again. His hair had been tied back in a low knotted bun to fit in his helm, now messy and trailing stray strands of hair that were damp with sweat.

 

Valka helped the Dunmer claw the helmet loose, looking at his face with a confused frown. Some of the horror of realization gently faded as he grappled with  _ now _ . Something was very wrong with Eldrin and it was not the blessing of the Madgod. That was another thing that he would be fundamentally able to recognize.

 

“The skull is an object of power,” he said. “And to repeat even part of the binding ritual is to strain what flesh will bear. It must be meant to be read in turn by several, or by one who is to be a willing sacrifice to the words.” He looked again, his frown deepening. Eldrin had not been hurt in the same way that he had. He was not bleeding, he breathed as though he had been running. “What happened to you?”

 

For a moment he forgot his fear. Nothing made sense. Fear and submission belonged to the world that was sane.

 

“I don't know,” Eldrin panted. His hands were trembling, nails digging into the helmet as he lowered it to brace against his hip. If he hadn't already been on his knees he thought he might have stumbled again, and he didn't need Valka's help, damn it. Why was this sense of deja vu so persistent?! The images in his head, the words Valka spoke, why did he feel he had seen and heard them all before?

 

“I was seeing things, horrible things, but at the time I saw them it didn't seem horrible. I was being suffocated by...  _ tentacles _ ...” Eldrin touched his neck. Then his face hardened and he dropped his hand to pick up his spear. Why was he telling this to Valka? “Take the skull. That- that's what I came for. We need to get out of here.”

 

Valka picked up the skull carefully in his gauntleted hand. He did not want it to touch any part of his bare skin. It whispered to him words that he did not understand, and in contact with the thing he felt something trying to work its way into his mind, something living and yet dead, but he was not what it sought. It found no purchase.

 

Without waiting to watch Valka pick up the loathsome thing Eldrin hurried back to the doorway, to the pack Valka had left. He tugged at it experimentally. Eldrin could have struggled with the weight if he really wanted to, but he was in a hurry and didn't want to trudge all the way back to Ald'ruhn with 80-some pounds on his back. He couldn't just leave the bag because his name was sewn into the lining, and his father might question where all the saltrice went to if Tsamabi mentioned it. He would compromise. Eldrin ripped open the bag and began hauling out the burlap sacks, throwing four of them them in a pile on the floor. The fifth one ripped from the bottom as he lifted it, saltrice spilling into his pack and over the floor.

 

“Damn it!”

 

Valka rose and turned, skull in one hand, spear in the other, and saw Eldrin struggling with the knapsack. When the bag tore he stared at it blankly for a moment. The contents had been grains of some plant. It was obviously heavy, but it was definitely not mortar or stucco or any other building material.  Eldrin was muttering a string of curses under his breath, shoveling saltrice out of his pack and flinging it aside by the handfuls. There were several other bags still in the pack which he would take home with him, and perhaps no one would notice some had been lost.

 

Valka walked over to prod another sack with his spear before Eldrin could tell him not to. It split, spilling more grain onto the dusty floor.

 

_ There was no maze, and Eldrin had nothing with him that he could use to wall me up. He wanted to break me so that I would obey. There was no chance that he would actually do it. _

 

He could not feel anger. He could not feel anything at all other than dragging fatigue.  _ I can serve the Madgod by taking care of his pets in the Isles, or I can serve him as the slave of this cruel insane idiot. Either way there is no meaning in it. _

 

“Hey!” Eldrin's head jerked aside to watch the sack Valka ripped spill across the floor. The keeper of the tomb was going to be very confused when next they visited. 

 

“Eldrin Llethri, you are a worse liar than I am,” Valka said wearily, and turned toward the door. “Will you have me carry the pack or not?”

 

“I should have let you bleed out,” Eldrin snapped as he rose and angrily heaved the pack up and onto his back. “It's still- oof. It's still pretty heavy. You'll be too slow.”

 

He was livid. Valka knew of his ruse. It had all been for nothing! He knelt to snatch up his spear and helm, his boots a rapid and furious  _ clud-clud-clud _ as he stormed out the way they had come. He kept his eyes away from the bones scattered on the floor. Eldrin had thought about rearranging the skeleton on the table again, but that would just raise too many questions. The less he gave the Nazthiri family to ponder, the better.

 

““I am very confused as to why you didn't,” Valka said.

 

“And what are you talking about, anyway? You can't lie,” Eldrin growled without looking back.

 

“I cannot lie because you have prevented me, not because I am incapable of it. Do not your people call mine Dark Seducers because you believe us deceitful?”

 

He followed Eldrin slowly at first, then faster, forcing his legs to work until the muscles burned just to catch up. Whether from the effects of the strength drain or the skull or both, suddenly he struggled to keep pace with someone he could normally outrun without being out of breath. The upward ramp was an agony. He felt he could hardly breathe as he struggled up toward the outer door.

 

“I didn't realize you'd been cursed with the strength drain. At the time, it seemed like the practical thing to do.” Eldrin was glad he had that excuse to fall back on so that Valka wouldn't guess how unpleasant a task Eldrin found slitting his throat to be. Actually, unpleasant was too mild a world. It had sickened him. If he didn't usually have a few sips of sujamma before bed it might have kept him up.

 

Eldrin could hear labored breathing behind him. He sighed noisily and rolled his eyes, slowing his pace. It would make the most sense for Eldrin to dismiss Valka and go home alone. But then he would have to carry the skull. And then he would have to walk through the foyada alone. What if the hallucinations started again? What if they got worse and Eldrin never snapped out of it?

 

“I don't know,” Eldrin said wearily, hand on the door, half-turned to look at Valka while he caught his breath. Why was he suddenly so chatty? His eyes flicked down to Valka's bared nipples. “I thought the name had more to do with, you know,” he made a humming sound and tilted his head to indicate Valka's lack of coverage, eyes rising to Valka's face again.

 

Valka stared at the floor, teeth gritted as he labored to catch up with Eldrin. His humiliation was complete. He had been deceived completely by Eldrin, stripped of all dignity, healed by a creature who would have died in minutes without him here and was now deprived of the only thing he might have still treasured as superior to the Dunmer. On top of the undesirable revelation he had had he did not know how he would stand it.

 

_ I have no choice. _

 

“There is that also, of course,” he said, leaning on the wall with one arm. “To me that also falls under the heading of lying, which is why I did not attempt it after I was given that prohibition. And you are obviously already attached to the mer Teris.”

 

Eldrin looked as though he'd been sucker-punched in the gut, mouth dropping open and eyes widening in cold horror. His fingers tightened on the things in his hands.

 

“What are you- I'm not- It isn't- Damn it all, Valka!” he finally snapped, extremely agitated. Was it that obvious? Did people know? Zoso and Lothon and, oh, merciful Tribunal! Did Teris know? “Why would you ever say that? He's my  _ friend. _ ” Eldrin sounded sick.

 

Valka recoiled, half-raising one gauntleted arm even though that would be completely useless against someone whose voice controlled his every action. He was left cupping the skull as if it were a weapon.

 

“Please don't – I -”

 

_ Get hold of yourself. The worst he will actually do is kill you. You know that now. _

 

He forced himself to lower his arm, leaning on the spear as he looked past Eldrin at the wall.

 

“You walked him home when he was drunk and urged him against further actions that would be harmful to him, even though you regularly take actions that are harmful to you. He is the one that is with you when the others are not. Perhaps I have misinterpreted that.” That wasn't a lie. He was genuinely confused now as well as frightened, unable to calm his pounding heart and head.

 

Confusion washed briefly over Eldrin's features and then his face and shoulders slackened and he just seemed miserable. Eldrin felt utterly defeated. By everything. Valka's cowering bothered him very much, but Eldrin didn't know why. Tsamabi's cowering was annoying too, but it was at least consistent with her betmer nature. Mazken were ancient and strong and supposedly evil. It didn't suit a warrior like Valka.

 

“I'm not going to hit you,” he said tiredly, and pushed open the door, leaning into it with his entire body as he stepped outside.  Valka followed Eldrin out, still at a loss. He carried the skull in his hand, ignoring the parasitic whisper in his mind. 

 

_ I am not your prey. Be silent. _

 

The world was muted tones of red and gray, the late noon sun hidden by hills to the West. Even the sky above looked as though it had been bleached. It was growing colder. Wind would have made it even worse, but the air was calm and eerily silent, broken only by the occasional distant baying of a strider that echoed down the foyada from miles away.

 

Eldrin moved slowly, burdened by the pack, by the guilt of what he had done in the tomb, by heartsickness, by confusion and dread. He kept his eyes on the ground.

 

“You didn't misinterpret it,” Eldrin eventually said. He didn't know why he was saying it. Valka wasn't his friend, Valka didn't care. Eldrin thought he had kept his attraction well-hidden. There was not a single person in the world he had even hinted it to. His feelings for Teris hurt him every day and he had no one to tell it to. “Teris is engaged to a woman, like I am. But he wants his marriage.”

 

“So he does not feel as you do,” Valka said. “And if he did, you would not be able to act on it. Does your society prohibit the love of man with man?” He had been aware that the old magister was married, but apparently he hadn't seen much of his wife. Certainly Valka had never been brought to any place resembling the home Eldrin lived in.

 

“Not really. But two males can't produce children so marriage between them is considered pointless. It's also slightly rarer to find another person who is same-sex attracted. And there is my family's status to consider. Whoever I marry has to be a good match financially, right? I guess if I were a commoner this wouldn't be such a problem. There'd be less pressure. Anyway... All of that is moot. Teris will never feel for me what I feel for him and that's the only part of the equation that matters.” Eldrin felt ill. And he felt stupid.  _ Pouring my heart out to a daedra who cowers in fear of me. How strange my life has become. _

 

“Can you even understand the concept of love, Valka? I thought daedra didn't have families or anything like that." He was a little confused about why Valka would have noticed such a thing to begin with.

 

“Of course I can,” Valka said. There were internal pressures at work in Eldrin's life that he had not realized existed. He told himself that he should not care, that what he had said before was quite true and that no incident in a mortal life was worth his attention.

 

But that was not the Madgod's view. The Madgod, who trafficked with mortals in ways and at times that his servants did not understand.

 

_ And I am trapped with Eldrin until he passes the ring on or dies. Perhaps if I understand his life better he will bring me less misery. _

 

_ And perhaps it will just give broader context to the next time he tortures me in some way. Hurrah. _

 

“ _ We feel pain, and fear it. We feel shame, and fear it. We feel loss, and fear it. We hate the Darkness, and fear it _ ,” he recited softly. “Without the ability to love how could there truly be loss?”

 

This was too much for Eldrin. Valka was nothing like his preconceived notions of daedra. He was not like a dremora, who seemed capable of little more than growling insults. Talking to Valka was too much like speaking to another mer.

 

“So you-” he cleared his throat and finally raised his head, glancing sideways at Valka, a little embarrassed. “You have someone back in the Isles?”

 

Valka shook his head. “No. I have been had by women, of course, but their relationships of note are not usually with men. With other men there is often competition, and we are fewer in number. It is not impossible, but it is less likely.”

 

Eldrin was even more confused.  _ You've been “had” by women? That's a strange way to put it. _

 

“So let me get this straight,” Eldrin said slowly. “You're capable of love. But women just use the men for sex and men are competing- for what? What does that even mean? The more you speak of your life in Oblivion, the worse it sounds to me.”

 

“For favor,” Valka said. “A few of us will attain rank through greater merit, or by obtaining the God's notice when he is in a better mood, or by attracting the favor of a higher-ranking officer. Do you not compete with the males of your acquaintance? You seem to have an antagony with Zoso Vorfayn.”

 

“Yes,” Eldrin admitted, smiling bitterly. “I guess our worlds aren't so different. Everyone is competing constantly. House against House, name against name. You have to look a certain way, act a certain way, speak a certain way. You have to know the right people. If you do anything wrong people talk, and if you do everything right people just make up a reason to talk. It's exhausting and it never ends.”

 

"Eventually it ends," Valka said. "Unless you are set to guard a tomb as an undead, I suppose. Does that happen to most people?"

 

“No, and the guardians were mostly servants in life. Lower-caste people. That won't happen to me, and even when it does they are released eventually. We - mortals, that is - will go to the otherworld, the house of spirits, when our lives are over. The idea of dying scares me, but I think I'll take it over being resurrected to hell again and again for all eternity.” Eldrin said it mildly. He didn't mean it as an insult.

 

“We often ask why you do not despair,” Valka said. “But yes. That sounds a less dreadful fate. I will never advance again now, and without the ability to advance it is unlikely I will have enough time free to seek out another. Even in a hundred or two hundred short years it is possible you will meet another Teris, Master Eldrin.”

 

Eldrin cringed. Intellectually, he knew that he would someday get over Teris and move on, but right now even the idea of that hurt him. And if he were trapped in an arranged marriage, that only made it more difficult...

 

“What do you mean that you'll never advance? When I die you'll... be.. free.” Eldrin trailed off quietly, looking back at the ground. His brows furrowed as if working out a puzzle that took all of his concentration.

 

_ Until you sell the ring, or bequeath it to your children, or it is lost long enough to give me hope and then found again, as it was last time,  _ Valka thought _.   _ He did not articulate this. There was no point in arguing with Eldrin, and if he provoked the Dunmer he would only make his own lot worse. He looked at Eldrin sideways, watching him frown at the ground. He turned his face away after a moment's startled paralysis, remembering not to keep looking at the mer's eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

_ Am I wrong?  _ Eldrin asked himself.

 

Everything within Eldrin snapped back against that thought. The Dunmer people had proven themselves the superior race through centuries of noble suffering, through perseverance, through domination over the other tribes that sought to take from their hands. The Dunmer gods were living gods who walked among their own people; what other race could say the same? Could Valka claim the god he served even cared for him at all, as the Tribunal loved and guarded their own? Could Eldrin be bound by a ring? Could his will be commandeered by any force in this world or the next? No! The ignorant should be tamed and educated to serve the wise and the just; that was natural and good and beneficial to all parties.

 

“Why do you serve Sheogorath, Valka?” Eldrin asked suddenly, sharply, looking up at the Mazken's eyes. “Do you not have the will to chose otherwise, when you are not in Nirn?”

 

“It's all I know,” Valka said. “I rose from the Wellspring at Pinnacle Rock in Dementia.” He snorted once as he thought back. “I was killed for the first time on my first day, as an example to the others that were new. I was looking at the room and didn't hear the grakendo. The officer," he added, realizing that the word was probably not familiar.

 

“Okay,” Eldrin said impatiently. “If I released you to Oblivion and threw the ring in the ocean, what would you do? You'd compete with the others, you'd slowly rise in rank, you'd kill Saints who are reborn endlessly just as easily as you are.. how old are you, anyway?”

 

“That is a difficult question to answer because time passes differently there than here, and we do not keep track in the same way you do,” Valka said. “I would guess something like four hundred years. It's likely there would be physical punishments, but no one would threaten to wall me up in silence and darkness for all time, either.”

 

This was greatly daring, but it had been a bizarre and taxing few hours and he was losing the ability to feel adrenaline.

 

Eldrin frowned deeply at him. He was growing irritated, but he kept his voice more or less level.

 

“Don't throw that back at me, Valka, you've already seen that it was an empty threat. I'm asking what you would DO with your life, and the only answer you can give me is that you would be punished. Not, “I would become a respected warrior” or “I would write poetry” or even something as simple and stupid as “I'll finish reading that book!” I'd think you were obfuscating if that were possible for you. You've been alive for roughly three Dunmer lifetimes already and you've never had any sort of relationship that wasn't a woman using you.. why do you expect that to change? Do you understand what I'm getting at here?” Eldrin had stopped walking and now he stared intently at the Mazken, waiting for an answer.

 

Valka perforce stopped as well, leaning on the spear. He was gradually growing more accustomed to the ache in his legs. He could bear it. Even the blue sky was no longer so very strange.

 

“You think that I deserve to be your slave because I will not accomplish anything great,” Valka said quietly. “And what will  _ you  _ do with the life of a free mer, Eldrin Llethri?”

 

“I don't know,” Eldrin said coldly. It was a question he asked himself daily. It was a question that brought him great stress, a question that seemed to dominate his life even when he pretended it did not. He gave Valka the same excuse that he always gave himself. “But I'm only twenty-five, still young by merish standards. I haven't had four hundred years to think about it.” He turned away, started walking once more.

 

“I'm not saying you deserve to be my slave. I'm saying this is an opportunity you would not have had in the Isles. Maybe I've gone about this all the wrong way. You need to be educated, not cowed.” The last was added thoughtfully, mostly to himself.

 

“As you wish, Master Eldrin.” Valka's tone was politely neutral as he resumed following along beside the Dunmer. He had no idea where this was even likely to go, but it could hardly be worse than it had been so far, could it?

 

He was beginning to recognize that cold tone as one Eldrin used when he had been told something he specifically did not want to hear.

 

_ An opportunity you would not have had in the Isles. _

 

That was certainly an interpretation he had not yet heard. He was inclined to distrust it, but he could wait and see.

 

Eldrin was quiet and contemplative for the rest of the walk. He had been taught his entire life that to serve was his duty and his right. Eldrin's place was to serve his House which in turn served the Tribunal, and those below him would serve their own masters who in turn served the Tribunal. Almsivi themselves served the Dunmer people as a whole. There was no promise that every individual would achieve greatness or happiness in his lifetime, but through humility, through the acceptance of one's station, one should at least live contentedly.

 

Did Eldrin really feel that in his own life? Did Tsamabi? Did she realize that she was a single thread in the glorious tapestry of Dunmer society, and would it please her at all? Eldrin knew that the answer was no.

 

As for Eldrin, he went through the motions of having accepted his place in society; he obeyed his father, more or less. He had not rejected the marriage. But deep in his heart, Eldrin did not want what was expected of him. How could he teach Valka the value of obedience when Eldrin did not know it himself? He was blind leading blind.

 

Eldrin was not able to find any sort of answer to this problem by the time they had reached Ald'ruhn. He stopped when the guard towers were visible over the tops of the foyada wall and turned his back to Valka.

 

“Put the skull in my bag. No one must see it. I suppose we'll stop by the temple first to cure you; it's on the way.”

 

“Thank you,” Valka said, for the first time in their acquaintance to date, and moved to put the skull into the knapsack. “I advise you not to touch this ungloved. It has a voice.” That was slightly outside the mandate of his orders, but watching Eldrin lose all conscious control and then sacrifice himself to the skull would probably not improve Valka's situation.

 

Even if it might be temporarily satisfying.

 

No, probably not even that. Then he would have whatever possessed the skull as a master, and that would certainly be worse. Valka had no understanding of the concept of good and evil, only of the duality of mania and dementia; but there was an anger and viciousness to the whispering voice that suggested no kind fate was reserved to whoever fell under its thrall.

 

Possibly he could work up to asking why Eldrin wanted the thing in the first place. They had had an entire conversation, surprisingly. It was the longest he had talked to any other being. He was beginning to realize how very alone was the life of a Mazken compared to the life of a mortal mer. Eldrin rebelled against the people in his life, he disappointed them, he attacked them head-on, but they were there without being ordered to be there, without a common task to perform. They were not waiting for the moment of release from their duties to scatter in all directions into the wilderness, for a few precious moments of solitude before it was time to take up arms again.

 

The temple proved to be another shell-shaped building, wider and lower, this one surrounded by a courtyard wall. A couple of people in blue-gray robes stared at Valka as they passed. Eldrin felt the skull throb inside the knapsack as they entered the precincts of the Three, but inside the bag there was little else it seemed able to do.

 

Eldrin sighed. He'd been too preoccupied thinking of Valka to really consider much what this skull might be or why that woman would want it. He was glad Valka warned him, of course, but now Eldrin wished he didn't know that.

 

_ It isn't too late to surrender this thing to the Temple, _ Eldrin thought, jaw clenching as he lead Valka inside to the actual shrine. It was a low-ceilinged room held up with pillars, three circular ash pits set in the floor just as in the tomb. They were scattered with bones half-submerged in the ashes. There were two other people in the room, kneeling and praying silently on the little cushions that ringed the pits. Near the back wall stood two trioliths, flowers and trinkets left as offerings at their bases along with redware bowls that held a few gold coins. A large bas-relief of Almsivi took up the entire wall behind them. The room smelled of incense but it was something pleasant, faintly floral, and it didn't choke Eldrin as in his nightmares.

 

Valka looked around slowly as he followed Eldrin, leaning increasingly on the spear. The ash pits were not unlike what they had seen in the tomb, but there was not the constant whispering here, the oppressive close atmosphere. The temple felt clean and open. This was a place of the living even though the remains of the dead were present. He was aware of staring eyes on them, on him. This was not a place where anything associated with daedra would be welcome.

 

Eldrin kneeled before one triolith, laying his things on the floor beside himself while he pulled ten drakes from his purse to toss in the bowl. He pointed at the floor, indicating Valka should kneel, also.

 

“Touch the triolith and ask Ayem to restore you,” he said quietly. The image painted in black on the face of the stone was a Dunmer woman in a long robe with flaring pauldrons. The picture was so heavily stylized that it was hard to tell if she was wearing a headdress or if that was merely her own hair piled up.

 

Eldrin was not sure this would work. Valka was a spawn of the House of Troubles. He really did not belong in this holy place - Eldrin could feel the other Dunmer in the room watching them, with curiosity or with judgement or both.

 

Valka stared in disbelief at Eldrin as he was given orders. He had literally just been told to perform an act of worship to a god other than his own. And he was unable to refuse. He was already sinking to his knees, one hand reaching out to touch the cool stone. He tried not to say the words, but the greatest effort of his will could not hold off the power of the ring for more than an instant.

 

“I ask for restoration,” he said in a harsh, choked whisper.

 

There was a tiny burst of multicolored light in gold and purple. It blinded him for a second as it shot out from the triolith and spiraled up around his body, and he felt power course through every cell and nerve as the feeling of dragging weakness evaporated. A peal of mad laughter echoed in his head that he very much hoped no one else heard.

 

A stern-faced priestess approached them, glaring at Eldrin. She pointed to the door. “Out.”

 

 

It was the first time Valka had ever shown any visible objection to his orders, however slight. What was his problem?  _ Ingrate. _ Eldrin frowned, and then jerked in surprise at the unexpected light show. The Tribunal rejected him after all?

 

“Yes Sera, sorry Sera!” Eldrin blurted, quickly gathering his things and scurrying out, face burning in shame. Was this another incident he'd have to hear about from his father? As soon as he was out the door Eldrin paused to replace his helm and lower the visor. He should have done that to begin with, although in all honesty he would probably be instantly recognizable by now. No one else in Ald'ruhn had a Mazken slave, to his knowledge.

 

Valka strode straight-backed after Eldrin, high-boned face serene. He could bear all of their staring now. The Madgod had approved him.

 

“Well  _ that _ was a mistake,” Eldrin said to Valka as he resumed his pace, heading across town for the shop under-skar. His tone was not actually repentant.

 

“I am my own even less than I am yours,” Valka said dryly. “Have I not told you so? I'm relieved that I was not struck down by any deity involved. At least my strength is restored.”

 

The light inside the shop under skar seemed a little different as they entered. It was richer and redder, not quite as bright. Someone could be heard moving about behind the curtains, feet shuffling slowly, rhythmically. A different attendant stood behind the counter today. A young mer, younger than Eldrin, swayed slightly to music only he could hear, eyes distant. He turned to look somewhere past them as the door opened. His tunic was of blue velvet with slitted sleeves, showing gold satin underneath. A gold satin collar peeped above the broader one of the outer tunic as well. Under it he wore a long kilt or skirt of black linen that was richly embroidered with geometric symbols in silver. The hems of his tunic were embroidered likewise.

 

“Good afternoon, Serjo,” he said. His voice sounded as though it had changed only recently, deep but diffident. “How may I serve?”

 

Eldrin approached the counter hesitantly, suddenly more uncertain than he ever had been about this situation.  _ Go back now. This isn't right. They're necromancers. You know it. _ There was something else. Something he ought to know, something Valka had said in the tomb... Eldrin couldn't remember it anymore but he knew it was important.

 

“I... I spoke to a woman last time I was here,” Eldrin finally said. He shifted uncomfortably, one hand tightening against the strap of his knapsack.

 

The young man's head turned slowly from side to side, as if looking around for anyone else, but his eyes remained vague and unfocused as they turned back to Eldrin.

 

“Have you brought the skull of Hlavren Nazthiri?” he asked slowly.

 

Valka was frowning, head tilted slightly to one side. He was sure that he heard whispering. It was not coming from the knapsack, or not only from there. It seemed to permeate this place, though the tone was less intense and hostile and more droning and hypnotic. He was aware of that quality, but it did not affect him.

 

_ Why did I come here? _ Eldrin wondered briefly.  _ That's right. The skull. The enchantment for Garisa Llethri. _ He shrugged off the knapsack and stooped to open it, hesitating again before reaching inside to touch the skull. He could feel the power of it before his gloved hand even touched it, an intensely uncomfortable pressure in his head like he was trapped in a vice. He shuddered when he did touch it, a crawling sensation moving up his arm and down his body that made the little hairs of his arm and the back of his neck stand up. He wanted to drop it, but then something cottony and warm enveloped his brain, soft voices whispering in his ear. He could not hear the words, only sense their meanings.  _ Stay. Calm. Good. Yes.  _ Eldrin thought he could smell the incense again. His breathing slowed.

 

“Yes, I brought it,” Eldrin said calmly, lifting the skull from the bag and placing it on the counter. The pressure in his head ebbed when he released it.

 

Valka watched the change in Eldrin with alarm:  _ shudder, relax, pupils of his eyes slowly widening.  _ He was ready to reach out and bat the skull away when the Dunmer set it down voluntarily.

 

The younger mer smiled down at it, reaching out with his ungloved hands to caress each side of the domed skull. He knelt to set it carefully down behind the counter and came up holding an urn. It was about twelve inches high and six wide, enameled in black and silver with the image of a netch whose tentacles mingled and entwined with a nest of trama roots below. A matching domed lid sealed the top.

 

“This will have the effect you seek,” he said. “It must be placed where your enemy will remain near it for a long time. A bedroom closet is best. An office might do. A dining room or entry hall will be too little.” He intoned the words as if from memory, as though he did not really understand them himself.

 

The whisper was much dimmer this time, inaudible unless Valka strained his ears to find it. This was an object of far less power, but the same spiritual contagion infested it.  _ Does he realize this is other than an ordinary enchantment? _

 

“Thank you, Serjo,” Eldrin said. He accepted the urn and tucked it into the crook of his arm, cradling it carefully. Then he turned to Valka. “You can take the pack now, Valka. Come along.” The caressing whispers died away when the door of the shop closed behind him, but Eldrin didn't really notice. The air outside was different; cooler, fresher. He attributed his slight change of mood to the change in setting.

 

_ Finally, I have it! _ Eldrin thought gleefully, looking down at the urn in his arm.  _ In time my father will recover his fortunes, but before long Garisa Llethri will be ruined! Now I only need some way to get this into his home. I suppose I could put a bug in Father's ear about wanting to visit my cousin, but how do I get into his private quarters? Hmm. I'll think on it more. _ He glanced up at the entrance of his uncle's manor high above his head as he walked over the spot where he had killed Valka just a day before.


	8. Chapter 8

Iluni Savil was eight years old before she knew something wasn't right.

 

She had played with other children often enough in the little orchard with its hedge of roobrush inside the fence and its gray and twisted and invulnerable trees. They cast mysterious, changeable shadows even on the days when there was no ashfall, waving their many little fingers above the stone benches. Her parents were social people and she had many cousins. They had played Red Mountain and Blessed Homilies and, until her mother found out and made them stop, a very original though theologically unfounded game wherein the child who drew the short straw had to be Wretched St. Alessia and the winner of the long straw was Vivec. Her mother called her in after the last of these games and sat her on her lap in a fat padded chair by the fireplace. Iluni leaned gratefully on her mother's shoulder, tired of the day's exertions. She wasn't really in bad trouble or she would be made to stand up.

 

“Listen, Iluni, I need to talk to you about your little games,” her mother said.

 

“I know, Mama,” she sighed. “No more St. Alessia.”

 

“Yes, that, but that isn't all, my dear. Your cousin Sula says that you keep having St. Alessia try to kidnap Vivec's bride and force her into marriage.”

 

“Vivec didn't even HAVE a bride, Mama.”

 

“He didn't fight St. Alessia, either. Stop trying to change the subject,” her mother said patiently, stroking her hair. “Do you realize that women cannot marry women?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“That isn't how it's done,” her mother said. “A woman and a woman cannot bear children together. Without children the family line will die out. So a woman must marry a man.”

 

“Oh.” She had not actually realized this, but it explained why all the adults in her life seemed to be paired off that way. She felt very disappointed, even then. “So I have to marry a boy?”

 

“I'm afraid so, Iluni. But not for a very long time. Hopefully by then you won't mind.”

 

“It won't be my cousin Narul, will it? He is smelly and mean.”

 

“No, it will definitely not be your cousin Narul,” her mother said. Iluni felt her quiver slightly as she suppressed a laugh, and smiled lazily as she leaned on Mama's shoulder.

 

“Okay, as long as it's not him. But I still won't like it,” she said sleepily.

 

Her father never had much to say. He was kind enough when she saw him, but he seemed very busy running his string of businesses. Growing saltrice and ash-yam took a lot of work this close to the Mountain, and that his plantations were able to accomplish it was a triumph that had earned him great wealth even though the name of Savil was not itself a noble one. Things that normally had to be shipped all the way from Suran brought a very good price locally.

 

Over time she tried to reconcile herself to the idea of marriage. She listened to the other girls talk about boys, at first how disgusting they were, and then how strange they were, and then about how to get one as soon as possible. She could not find herself very interested in any of it. She gained the reputation of being slow, dull, a dreamer without being clever or animated, preferring to sit quietly in the orchard with her books and pencils. She was not an ugly girl – she had fine clear eyes, and her black hair was smooth and glossy, and her skin was a very dark and lovely blue-gray – but any boy who tried to strike up a conversation at a family event would find her very shy and monosyllabic, almost impossible to talk to. Even Narul only pulled her hair a couple of times. When she didn't squeal he lost interest.

 

At sixteen she was old enough to start having strange tingly feelings, but boys definitely did not cause that to happen. No, the cause of that was Naxheer.

 

It came about because her personal maid, La'saja, got pregnant. Mother was livid. The Khajiit, who was gray striped and had very pretty blue eyes, was much older than Iluni, and she often sneaked away from the house. Iluni didn't particularly care because that left her alone to work on her embroidery or draw in her sketching-book or secretly write stories in her journal about valor, and battle, and mighty Chimer goddesses who didn't have to marry anyone and could do exactly as they liked and had fabulous hair that was golden or white and eyes that were any number of colors that weren't red.

 

But then La'saja started to show a little bump in her belly, and Mama noticed her being a bit sick in the morning sometimes, and the whole thing came out. She'd been over to see Auntie Vhalu's big handsome Cathay-raht slave, Ra'danja, and now she was going to have at least a couple of little Khajiits. The Savils were not cruel people, but it wasn't appropriate for such a slave to be taking care of their daughter. Aunt Vhalu took her off their hands for a surprisingly low price. She was a silly romantic woman and the babies would walk all over her, Mama said.

 

Then, the day after La'saja was gone, Father came home with an Argonian girl. He came out to the orchard where Iluni was sitting under the thickest of the trees, shaded from the summer sun by its twisted branches. She was drawing a sketch of Blessed Almalexia. She prayed to the merciful goddess often. She felt that mercy was something she would need in great quantity and  very soon.

 

“We've bought you a new maid,” her father said gruffly. He was still wearing his work clothes, simple linen things frosted with ash, a heavier alit-hide cloak and shawl to protect him when he was outside. “Her name is Naxheer. Naxheer, this is my daughter Iluni, whom you will serve.”

 

She looked only a little older than Iluni, which meant she was probably a few years younger in actual fact;  Argonians grew and aged much faster than Dunmer . She was sturdy and strong, full-breasted, full-hipped, with a thick tail and a long muzzle that was almost pointed in front, like the beak of a cliff-racer. She had no apology spines at all, only a pair of glossy black horns that hooked straight back from her head. She had the most beautiful scales Iluni had ever seen. In ordinary daylight as she stepped from the house, she looked plain tan with a little darker mottling on the top of her body, along her back and tail. But in the dimmer and less direct light of the orchard, dappled with sun, she was glorious, limned with a halo of metallic gold. Iluni felt her heart jump into her throat even as she carefully laid her picture aside. Her palms felt suddenly clammy. She wasn't sure what was happening to her. It had never happened before.

 

“Hello, Naxheer,” she said, managing not to stammer. “Have you been a lady's maid before?”

 

“No, Mistress Iluni,” Naxheer said. She had a thick Marsh accent. “One served with the cleaning maids in Ramoran Manor. One was – one was clumsy.”

 

“You'll have to train her up a bit, but we think she'll grow out of it,” Father said. “I'll leave you to get acquainted.” He turned to go briskly back into the house to do whatever it was he did in his office.

 

“Come sit by me,” Iluni said, scooting over on the bench. The Argonian settled into the warm spot diffidently. She wore a loose tan shift, appropriate to the position she had left. “You'll have nicer things to wear when there's time to get the tailor in, I'm sure. You're – you're so pretty. You  _ should  _ have nicer things.” Iluni herself was wearing a plain dark blue robe, somewhat dusty with chalks and marked with pencil leads. She had not blossomed into the Chimer-like figure she had hoped for. She tended to be a little soft and thin. Eating did not interest her particularly, and riding or running about interested her even less.

 

The Argonian turned her face away, covering the end of her muzzle with one hand. Iluni saw no blush beneath the scales, but she felt one was lurking under there somewhere.

 

“One – one knows not what to say, Mistress.”

 

“Well, I suppose I ought to show you where my things are,” Iluni said, recalling that she was behaving oddly. What was this strange fluttering feeling, like a herd of butterflies had colonized her body? She felt strangely light and yearning, wanting something without really being sure what it was. “You'll have La'saja's old room next to mine. Everything's clean but it'll probably smell strange to you for a little while. You have a really sensitive nose, right? Argonians?”

 

“Yes, Mistress,” Naxheer helped her gather up her things, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as her hands were not slapped away. She paused to look at a drawing of Vivec with his spear and crested golden helm. Her soft voice grew more animated as she straightened up. “Mistress is an artist! This is so beautiful. The feathers look real.”

 

“Do you like it?” Iluni's eyes shone as she grinned. She was much prettier in that moment, though she did not know it. “It's meant to be just before the battle of Red Mountain, but I haven't filled in the ash blowing behind him yet – oh.” She deflated slightly as she remembered. “But you can't say things like that when anybody else is around. If I look too familiar with a servant I'll get in trouble. You will, too.”

 

“Of course, Mistress. One is very sorry.” She ducked her head hurriedly and almost dropped the sketching-book, catching it just in time. “She wishes to cause no trouble at all.”

 

“It's all right, it's my fault. But – but maybe when it's just you and me – we'll have to be very careful,” she realized aloud. “If you smell someone coming or hear them when I don't you have to warn me. But I have a lot of other things I want to show you. I'm embroidering a tapestry of the Merciful Goddess blessing Nirn. It'll take years to finish but I think it will be very special. La'saja wasn't very good at sorting my silks so I didn't let her touch any of that. Do you know how to embroider?”

 

“No,” Naxheer admitted. “She knows nothing very accomplished. But she is eager to learn. Mistress will teach her to help, possibly?” She looked sidelong at Iluni. Her eyes were big and golden, with little green flecks near the slit pupils. Iluni thought they were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “One speaks out of turn. She apologizes.”

 

“No no, it's fine. As long as it's only you and me,” Iluni said. She grinned again. “It'll be like a game, a secret. We have to make sure nobody knows that we talk. Do you like games of pretend? I'm not supposed to like them any more now that I'm becoming a woman, but I still do.”

 

“She used to,” Naxheer said wistfully. “She will do her best.”

 

“Do you miss your family?” Iluni asked her as they carried the pile of books and writing things back toward the house.

 

“She does not really remember them. She was sold to a rug-maker when she was very small, for picking the lints with her tiny claws. Then when she was too big she was sent to Ramoran Manor with the maids,” Naxheer explained. “But she and the other little ones used to play games in the rug-merchant's when nobody was around. She knows it was very naughty,” she added hastily, looking sidelong at Iluni again. It did something to Iluni each time. She felt strangely warm.

 

“No one will ever know,” Iluni said confidently.

 

And for a while it was just that, a game of pretend. Her mother or father or the older servants or anyone else who came upon them suddenly would find her reading and Naxheer embroidering, or both of them at work on the tapestry in a businesslike way, or Naxheer dusting and straightening her room as she sketched. In private she shared all her drawings and all her stories and all her plans. Naxheer was an admiring audience and, as it turned out, very clever. She was not clumsy at all. She learned to dress Iluni's hair better than Iluni had ever managed herself, and she had many interesting ideas and suggestions for her stories and projects. In a matter of weeks Iluni was not sure how she had ever lived without her.

 

“She was completely wasted on the Ramorans,” Iluni told her mother at breakfast one day. Naxheer was off doing laundry. “I think she was clumsy there because they were unkind to her. She's never broken anything of mine. I'm so glad father brought her.”

 

“Well, good,” her mother said. “Just make sure you preserve a sense of what's appropriate, my dear. If you give a slave an inch, they'll take a yard.”

 

Her parents were generally pleased because Naxheer never sneaked out of the house. She didn't even socialize much with the other servants, though the housekeeper gave her a good name for being polite and obedient. And Iluni's dreams grew hot and strange in a way that they had never been. Naxheer's shoulder close to hers as she read a passage from a book aloud, the solid warmth of her body beside her on the bench on a cold day, her hand under Iluni's hand as she guided her to some new sewing technique – every touch inflamed her. She wanted – she wasn't even sure what. Probably something inappropriate. And even if it had been allowed, Naxheer was her slave. She would have to try and go along with it even if she didn't want to, and it wasn’t right to put her in that position.

 

One day they were reading a homily on love in marriage, sitting on the cushions by the fire in Iluni's rooms. Iluni sighed as she set the book aside.

 

“What is wrong?” Naxheer asked. Her Dunmeris had gotten better and better with practice. “Are you sad?”

 

“Sometimes,” Iluni said. “I'm seventeen now. Soon I'll be old enough to be married, and I don't really want to be married.”

 

“Why not?” Naxheer asked.

 

“Do you hear anyone nearby, smell anybody?”

 

Naxheer lifted her long nose to sniff the air. “Just us two,” she said.

 

“I'm going to tell you a secret, Naxheer, and you can't ever tell anyone,” Iluni said.

 

“Of course I won't tell,” Naxheer said. “Did I tell anyone about the time we sneaked out into the orchard so Mistress could sketch by moonlight?”

 

Iluni grinned. “No.”

 

“And did I tell anyone about the time Mistress sneaked down to the kitchen and stole a blintz that was saved for Auntie Vhalu's special birthday dinner and nobody ever noticed one was missing?”

 

“No, you didn't.” She laughed at that memory. With an Argonian to act as a lookout she'd dared things that would never have crossed her mind before. La'saja would have told on her.

 

“So please tell.”

 

“I don't want to get married,” she said. “I don't... I don't like men in a marrying way.”

 

Naxheer frowned slightly. “That is rather serious. In a noble Dunmer family it is important to get married and carry on the husband's family line.”

 

“I KNOW,” wailed Iluni, then covered her mouth with her hand, looking quickly around. After a moment she went on. “But, but men don't attract me. Their bodies are hard and musky and just... they don't smell right. The things that other girls say are attractive don't do anything for me. I like women.”

 

“In a marrying way?” Naxheer said, carefully picking up the phrase she had used.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is there a woman that you love, like the character of Nallira Vordarius in the story about the Cyrodilic war with the Akaviri?” 

 

She had gone so far as to show Naxheer that story. It was a very sweet and tragic romance between Nallira and the Akaviri princess, her dire enemy. They had sniffled together over it like a couple of babies when nobody was looking.

 

“Well,” Iluni said, her complexion darkening beneath her blue-gray skin. “Yes.”

 

“Who is it?” Naxheer asked, eyes searching her face. Iluni thought she looked more anxious than she really ought, but she was mostly thinking of herself in that moment and did not pay it much mind.

 

“It's you,” Iluni blurted out, then covered her mouth with her hand again, eyes wide in panic. “I – I wasn't going to tell you,” she babbled. “I know it's not fair because you're a slave and I know a Dunmer can't love a betmer unless they're very powerful like that Telvanni mage who has her own tower and I know Mother and Father won't let me free you and I can't afford another lady's maid and even if I could you would have to go away -” Tears gathered in her eyes.  She felt stupid, and helpless, and desperate.

 

Naxheer did not recoil. She scooted closer and put her arm around Iluni.

 

“This is a problem, isn't it,” the Argonian said softly.

 

“Yes,” Iluni sobbed.

 

“It's a problem for me, too,” Naxheer said.

 

“I know, I'm so sorry – wait, what?”

 

“Because I love you very much, Iluni. You are beautiful and clever and wonderful. I don't want to lose all our time together to some man who won't really care about you.” She spoke very softly, whispering in Iluni's ear, breath caressing the fine little hairs around her face.

 

“Then what do we do?” Iluni whispered back.

 

“Dry your eyes, first of all.” Naxheer reached up very tenderly with her sleeve to wipe away the tears. “Things are terrible and hard, but we will make them better, you and me. I know I can't be free. I never expected it. But we can always have our little games where nobody else can see us.”

 

“But when I'm married,” Iluni said, sniffling. Naxheer rubbed her back gently in a circle.

 

“I will still be with you. Is it not traditional that a lady brings her own staff when she goes to a new home? Do not tell your parents you will not marry. Tell them you will only marry if you can have your own maid with you. A reasonable husband will allow this. They do not want to sell you off to someone cruel. They are not bad people.”

 

“But I'll still have to – to touch a man,” she said.

 

“Maybe not very often,” Naxheer said. “Maybe hardly at all. Maybe only with glass between you, like your Auntie.” That was more information than she had wanted at the time, but she was not likely to forget the deeply scarring story of her Auntie's first conception. She had been too small and tight to fit her Uncle inside her and they had used a little cup and a big dropper of glass to get his seed where it needed to be. The glassblowers who sold such kits called them the Mother's Helpers.

 

“A husband has rights,” Iluni sighed, leaning on Naxheer.

 

“A noble man is often much more lazy than your father, my love.” Her tongue shaped the syllable lovingly, and Iluni's heart quickened. “Iluni's family is very rich. Dress yourself ugly and act boring and maybe he will marry your money and get a mistress very quickly. Naxheer is – I am a clever tailor. I can make you such things as will put off a man from your bed and not be too obvious. Just watch.”

 

“Can I kiss you?” Iluni said.

 

“No, because I am going to kiss  _ you.”  _ Naxheer pressed her muzzle against Iluni's cheek, her ear, her throat, tiny scales moving in gentle, mysterious ways. Iluni breathed faster as a scaly hand, not soft but very careful, cupped her breast. She was on fire. She reached out to run her hands up and down Naxheer's sides, to caress the top of her tail where she had always wanted to touch. She felt the other girl breathing hard as well.

 

“I'm not even sure what to do,” Iluni whispered.

 

“Never mind,” Naxheer whispered back. “We will figure it out together.”

 

They were very clumsy at first, with fingers, with pressing their bodies tight together, and when they were very sure nobody was coming for a long time, with their lips and tongues. Naxheer had a  _ lot  _ of tongue in her mouth, and there was a great deal two women could do and never interfere with the pesky crescent of skin that crossed the gates of birth below the sensitive nub that was the heart of all pleasure. 

 

After the first time that the real fireworks went off things were different. Iluni worked until her fingers were numb to make it happen to Naxheer in turn, and at last she saw that same uncontrollable joy and passion blossom in her lover's face and she knew that nothing would ever be the same. Iluni felt herself awakened to another, very different world from the one she had known. Her mother remarked on it one day as they walked together under skar, a rare shopping trip away from the plantation.

 

“You are becoming a beautiful woman, Iluni. You have more certainty about you now.”

 

“Thank you, Mama,” Iluni said calmly. Naxheer was walking behind them, carrying a sack full of packages. She, too, had grown more beautiful, her body blossoming into lithe, full-figured grace, though no one else seemed to really notice except Iluni. The maid's face was fixed in an expression of polite blankness at all times when they were out and about. She was only alive, she was only Naxheer, when they were alone.

 

“Now that you are twenty we must begin seeking a husband for you,” her mother said.

 

“I'm ready, Mama.”

 

“Then perhaps you ought to start wearing prettier clothes,” her mother suggested, eyeing her unflatteringly straight and loose blue-gray robes sideways. “You'll never attract a fine man dressed in a sack.”

 

“Oh dear,” Iluni said sedately. “Well, I'll have to get a new pattern-book for Naxheer.”

 

They had been too obvious. From then on they conspired to make her clothes of finer materials, with skilled seams and beautiful embroidery, and as subtly as possible to suggest she was also dumpy and hunchbacked and homely. Naxheer was a genius with the needle. She even invented ways of dressing Iluni's hair that made her face look fatter, silly round loops of braid all around her cheeks. When faced with young men she was polite, even friendly, and completely unencouraging. There were no offers for a long time. She actually thought she was getting away with it, that she might be able to stick with it until she was old enough to be considered a spinster and live on her saved dowry-portion in quiet retirement in some cottage somewhere. Maybe Caldera.

 

And then came the matchmaker from the Llethri family. An elder Dunmer woman dressed in green velvet swept into their home as if she owned the place and looked everything over with a sharp eye, assessing the value of every object she saw. She looked Iluni over with tolerant amusement, but Iluni knew she was primarily looking at the materials of her clothes and deciding what they had cost. She talked to her for a little while, about her accomplishments (she was now well-known to be a skilled seamstress and embroiderer, with her lady's maid), about her health, about her religious convictions.  Mo one could seek a more ardent worshipper of the Merciful Goddess than Iluni, and her acknowledgement of the others of the Three was at least very dutiful.

 

Not long after that there was an offer. Her father called her down to his office alone, sitting back seriously in his chair as he looked her over.

 

“We've had an offer of marriage from the Llethri family on behalf of young Eldrin,” he said. Iluni swallowed, nodding her head. “I've met the lad, and I've asked around. I'm afraid he's not very steady-minded. The Articles of Marriage would secure your future, but I don't know what kind of husband he will be. He may have a violent temper.”

 

“But you'd like me to say yes?” Iluni asked softly.

 

“I want you to be happy, my girl. But we would very much benefit by an alliance with a family with a better name. You know that some of my brothers and cousins, not the ones you have known, are little better than criminals. This will bring us legitimacy. It's worth paying off his debts and his family's for that. Allied with the Llethri name I will have more places to sell my goods, and I can afford to actually open the ebony mine we found on the Eastern property, buy workers and equipment for it. We will only increase by this. You can secure not only your own future, but all of ours.”

 

Iluni nodded. She had heard of Eldrin Llethri. He did not move in the same circles, but he was known to be handsome, temperamental, dissolute. He probably would not be often at home, and he would probably not bother at all with a mousy, dull wife. He was perfect.

 

“The Articles must say that he cannot sell Naxheer,” she said. “She has gained greatly in value since she came to us and I don't want her sold off to pay his gambling debts or some other nonsense. She's a good slave and she doesn't deserve that.” Patronizing phrases rose to her lips with practiced carelessness.

 

“Is there anything else that you want?” her father asked. “Your wedding things will be the finest that money can buy, you needn't worry I'll stint on that. An army of tailors will be at your command.” He smiled slightly. He was generally a dour and serious mer. It was the closest to a joke she had ever heard him speak. It was too bad, because she wouldn't be able to stop them showing her at her best, but hopefully Eldrin Llethri spent his time around enough rich beauties that he would still find her insipid and soft and thin.

 

“I would like to take Dra'nosi with me as well, if you can part with her. She's a good cook and I don't think he'll have one,” Iluni said.

 

“You shall have Dra'nosi and all of her favorite pots and spoons even if I have to duel the housekeeper to the death. Is that really all?”

 

“That's all,” Iluni said, and smiled back at her father. “If you don't mind, I'd like to go to the Temple in two days' time, to pray for our success. That is, if you can spare me a guar and a cart.”

 

“Of course I can. You shall have Naxheer and an armsman. Be safe.”

 

The road between the Savil plantation and the gates of Ald'ruhn was not a particularly dangerous one. It was well-patrolled by Redoran guards, and highwaymen were generally afraid to risk it. That very afternoon she sat down to write a letter.

 

_ To the esteemed Eldrin Llethri: _

 

_ No doubt by this time you have received my family's acceptance of your proposal of marriage. I would like to meet with you in person to discuss the terms of that arrangement, just you and I. I will bring one servant. If you wish to do likewise, of course that is your right. Soon enough all that pertains to me will be yours. _

 

_ If you agree, please reply by the hand of the messenger who brought you this. There is a grove of roobrush a half-mile to the West of Ald'ruhn beside a pond, where a muck farmer lived before the ash began to fall. If you wish to meet me in the ruined house there after nightfall tomorrow I will consider it a great favor. _

 

_ Three blessings. _

 

_ Iluni Savil _

 

She helped Naxheer sneak out to deliver the little ribbon-tied scroll. It would be a long run, but the Argonian was tireless and fleet of foot. Eldrin would return home to find her waiting in the vestibule, hands modestly folded beneath a very fine guar-leather cloak.

 

At her full growth Naxheer was perhaps five feet six inches tall, buxom and strong. She and Iluni were much of a height. Now she waited with outward patience and inward fluttering moths to see the fine gentleman that Iluni would marry.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Finding a courier from Iluni Savil waiting with a letter obliterated what little joy Eldrin felt at finally accomplishing one of his goals. His expression was politely neutral below the lifted visor of his helm as he passed the letter to Valka unopened. Inside he felt that lead weights had been strapped to his limbs and he was sinking into the Inner Sea, dapples of sunlight on the waves above slowly receding as darkness enveloped him.

 

“Valka, will you take these things down to my room? Give me the bag.” There was a bit of shuffling around, Eldrin taking the knapsack full of borrowed saltrice and giving Valka his spear. The urn he would stash in the pantry so that it could not affect himself or his father. He had to take care of these things quickly before someone saw. It seemed that his father was either already in bed, or giving him privacy for what was obviously something personal.

 

“I'll have a reply for you in a minute,” he said over his shoulder to the Argonian as he lugged the pack away. It was, in fact, several minutes before Eldrin returned to his room to read the thing. He took his time climbing out of his armor and putting it away in the “armory” downstairs, which was really more of a display room showcasing all the fine arms that the family didn't actually use.

 

He came to his bedroom wearing the black padding and a pair of house slippers, pinned hair disheveled, face tired. He walked past Valka wordlessly and changed into a navy robe behind the screen- comfortable, loose, and not ornate, but still of fine cloth - and came out to sit at his table and finally read the letter. Confusion replaced dread toward the end of it. Why did Iluni want to meet him in such a strange spot? Obviously she did not want their parents to know, but again: why? Eldrin actually laughed joylessly to himself. Probably she knew about his family's recent misfortune and wanted nothing to do with him, but she was being pushed into this against her will just like he was. Maybe she wanted to threaten him to call it off?

 

He saw no point in writing a message himself when he had only a few words to say.

 

“Valka, go tell her messenger I will meet at the time and place she has appointed,” Eldrin said, waving his hand as if batting away an insect. Maybe Iluni would consider him rude if he did not write her back. He was too tired to care.

 

 

Eldrin Llethri looked busy and tired, and as though he had been out walking in the ash, not as though he had been carousing with his friends. That was puzzling to Naxheer. Even more puzzling was the fact that he was followed by what was obviously a daedric servant. She stared for fully a second, trying to understand how in the world he had summoned such a thing. He had not the reputation of a mage. And surely an artifact that could do such a thing would have been sold to pay the family's debts?

 

The Dark Seducer's polite bow broke her paralysis, and she dipped her head quickly.

 

“Of course, Muthsera.” She waited patiently until the daedra returned alone. He was still carrying a spear, but that did not frighten her tremendously. He held it as though he had forgotten it was there, as though it were part of his body, not as though he intended to threaten her with it.

 

“Master Eldrin Llethri says that he will meet at the time and place appointed,” he said.

 

“Thank you, Serjo. What is your name?”

 

“Valka.”

 

“She is called Naxheer,” she said, and bowed again and took her leave. “Good afternoon.” She had a long run back to the plantation, and she wanted to be there before dark. Iluni would be waiting anxiously for the answer.

 

“Good afternoon,” Valka echoed, watching her go.

 

Valka was beginning to realize that he probably did not have to greet all of these women that Eldrin met. Eldrin treated them as though they were in essentially the same position as Valka – lesser, owned. He supposed that made sense. These people didn't want to do all of their own work, and summoning daedra to do all of it would not be practical. Enslaving races that did not resemble them physically seemed a likely solution, if he knew anything at all about mortals.

 

He went back down to Eldrin's room, entering quietly and shutting the door behind him.  He found Eldrin seated at his vanity, brushing his hair.  He stood leaning on the spear as he watched the Dunmer, visible in the mirror, a looming purple-gray shadow behind Eldrin's shoulder.

 

Eldrin glanced up when he heard the door shut, finding Valka's eyes in the mirror, but did not stop what he was doing.

 

“Valka, do you know how to read? Dunmeris, I mean,” he asked.

 

"Yes. Several mortal tongues, Master Eldrin."

 

Eldrin set down his brush. The handle was polished bone capped with gold on the end. Then he paced over to the little shelf by his table where he kept a few books. He hesitated, fingers lingering over the spines while he considered what might be best, and finally selected Saryoni's Sermons. It was a thin book bound in hard leather, and like most things associated with the Temple it strove for modesty, the inverted pyramid of the Tribunal alone adorning the cover.

 

He handed it to Valka.

 

“I'd like you to read this. You can stay here, or return to the Isles for the night. I really don't care.” He spoke without emotion or apparent interest.

 

Valka’s heart leaped.   _ Yes! Send me back! _

 

But... with a book in his hand? He would make no headway toward Stipplehand, he realized dully. He would be distracted and it was possible he would be killed by a roaming Aureal or elytra or one of the favored of Sheogorath that he had run into at the wrong moment.

 

And yet he desperately craved that sky, his own sky, the place he had earlier feared he would never see again. Who would know if he stopped in the wood to read? He might be punished with strokes if he was very late arriving at the garrison, but it was just as likely they would not know or care when he had left the Wellspring.

 

_ Let me feel the air of the Isles, away from this place, away from this mer. _

 

“I would be dismissed, Master Eldrin.” His voice did not quite crack, but the strain was audible. And somewhat to his surprise Eldrin did in fact speak the word, and Nirn dissolved gratefully around him and became darkness and cool, fresh air without ash, and the sound of blowing trees.

 

Valka transferred the book to the hand that held his spear and rested the other on a tree trunk, then leaned his forehead against the bark, eyes shut. Precious, grateful silence, unbound, without the need to constantly wait on orders. A falling leaf brushed his arm as it drifted past.

 

_ For now. Because I am between assignments, and taking time that is not really mine to take. _

 

Was the punishment he might suffer worse than what Eldrin had threatened to do to him? Absolutely not. Of course, a grakendo threatening him with having his feet caned and then having to carry water uphill all day would in fact do that thing. Eldrin had never intended to carry out what he had said.

 

Valka leaned his back against the tree trunk, opening his eyes, and flipped open the book to begin reading. As his eyes adjusted, the glitter of the purple lights spiraling up nearby was enough for him to see the page.

 

_ Listen, faithful, to Vivec's words, for he says five times and five ways – _

_ Forge a keen Faith in the crucible of suffering. _

_ Engrave upon thine eye the image of injustice. _

_ Death does not diminish; the ghost gilds with glory. _

_ Faith conquers all. Let us yield to Faith. _

_ Better to suffer a wrong than to do one... _

 

_ \--- _

 

Eldrin spent the rest of his evening fulfilling all of those mortal needs Valka found so abhorrent, then he tucked in under the covers, naked, still warm from a bath with a book on his lap and a bottle of sujamma in his hand. His entire body ached from the long hike and finally lying down was possibly the most pleasant sensation he had ever felt. He realized belatedly that his order would not be binding to Valka once he reached Oblivion. Valka might toss the book in a lake.  Did they have lakes? They had springs, apparently. Eldrin didn't have the energy to care.

 

When he was drunk enough that the words on the page blurred past readability and Eldrin felt himself warmed from inside and sinking into his pillows, he tossed the book away. He'd been reading the same line over and over again, trying not to think about anything but unable to concentrate on that, either. It was a fictionalization of St. Veloth's life from the perspective of one of his original followers during the exodus, but it wasn't any good.

 

The heat of the drink had gathered in his groin as it often did and Eldrin turned sideways in bed, sighing despondently. He was too exhausted and too drunk to clothe himself and head out to the bordello now, and besides, he had very little gold left to spend.

 

The heat trapped under the blanket was more than enough for comfort but suddenly Eldrin felt very cold in his massive, empty bed. He ached for a pair of arms to encircle him. He shut his eyes, nuzzling into the pillows, and the hand that closed around his hardness was Teris's hand and then it was Teris's mouth, warm and wet and Eldrin's hand was fisting the other mer's wild red hair and -

 

_ He held Valka's skull tightly by the hair, staring down into eyes glossy with tears as the proud Mazken stifled his dying sounds. Scalding heat washed over Eldrin's hand, the air filling with coppery stink. He could feel every slight twitch of Valka's body through the blade he still held. _

 

“Damn it,” Eldrin croaked, eyes brimming with tears when they cracked open. One of the lanterns had burned out and only the candlestick on his bedside table lit the room now. He pulled halfheartedly on his cock but he was already growing soft and Eldrin didn't want to continue, anyway. He rolled onto his belly and slid his arms under the pillows, burying his face in them, and let the tears leak out until consciousness faded away.

 

But it never did fade completely. Eldrin continually woke from dreams he could not remember yet knew had been bad, and the drumming heartbeat in his ears would sound like footsteps and he could hear other voices in his own ragged breathing. Sometimes he felt that he was half asleep and moving around his room, but later the memory would be jumbled and dark.

 

It was well past noon when Eldrin finally dragged himself out of bed, muscles aching from too much exertion the day before. He didn't feel very rested but he was tired of trying. After he had dressed and eaten Eldrin considered calling Valka, then decided against it. He didn't have time to go anywhere or do anything before he had to meet Iluni Savil. He wasted most of his day lounging around in his room, playing the lute while draped across the cushions on his back. It seemed that every song that occurred to him to play was either something about unrequited love, or from a ballad in which one lover died, or other topics equally depressing.

 

A few hours before sunset Eldrin got himself dressed.  He braided his hair again, two one either side of his face with the rest of it loose. He selected clothes that weren't very boastful: a high-collared, ash-gray linen robe embroidered with sermons in silver thread all down the right side and curly-toed netch leather boots that had little ornamentation. Perhaps it would make Iluni realize that the Llethris really had become destitute and she had better call the whole thing off at once.

 

He knew the place Iluni had mentioned. Eldrin spared a few drakes to hire a guar and cart to take him there. He arrived at the grove at sunset, the Western horizon a brilliant explosion of red and orange and gold, the Eastern horizon dark. Eldrin tossed a coin to the driver so that he would wait, and he set off on foot for the ruined shack.

 

Roobrush had overrun what had once been a yard and now was only soft ash layered over the dirt. Eldrin wound his way along the clearest path he could find going up to the shack, hissing under his breath when the scraggly shrubs reached out with long, twiggy fingers to catch at his robe. He could already tell that the roof of the shack had caved in. He doubted very much Iluni was waiting inside, but Eldrin pushed open the door anyway and leaned forward to look around. A section of the roof and one of the support beams that held it were now a rotting pile half buried in ash deposited by the storms. The remaining planks were jagged and black against the red sky beyond.

 

Eldrin tossed his ball of magicka into one dark corner where the fading light from the hole did not reach, illuminating broken furniture, cups, tools and other debris poking out of the ash like an archaeological site half excavated. He studied the things with disinterest as the sun continued to sink, and found himself thinking of Valka. He must be very relieved that Eldrin had not called him for an entire day. Did he read the book? Did he think it was stupid? Maybe Valka thought him a hypocrite. Eldrin knew he was no exemplar of Dunmer values.

 

\---

 

Valka read the book from cover to cover, standing silent in the wood. Nothing compelled him, but Eldrin had wished it, and there was probably some reason. He wanted to know what it was. Further reading only confused him, however. Why would the Dunmer insist that he read the precepts of a religion that he obviously did not follow himself? He couldn't be hoping to convert Valka to the worship of Vivec. He had served the Madgod four hundred years.

 

Perhaps Eldrin really  _ was  _ insane.

 

By the time it was done he was aware that sweat and ashes had dried on his body and that he was able to smell himself. Valka closed the book carefully and began walking again, listening for water, for foes. He walked through the wood for a long time before he came to a brook. He cleaned himself and his equipment as best he could. Maintaining the edge of the spear would have to wait until he came to Stipplehand.

 

\---

 

Iluni waited impatiently for Naxheer's return, pacing in her room, trying to read, trying to sketch, accomplishing nothing. When at last she heard a tap at the window she ran to pull aside the curtains and undo the latch to swing the portal open. Naxheer climbed over the sill, panting.

 

“He will be there,” she said. “He sent no message in writing. Even that answer he sent by his daedric servant.”

 

“Daedric? Come sit, you must be exhausted.” She shut the window hastily and hustled the Argonian into a chair, pouring her out a glass of water. “I'll wash your feet so no one notices.” Argonians could not sweat, but the dirt of the road was thick on the clawed toes of her digitigrade feet.

 

“I'm fine, don't fuss over a slave,” Naxheer said, putting out an arm to embrace her around the waist. “I'll do it.”

 

“No you won't. Stay put.” She kissed Naxheer on the cheek and pressed firmly downward on the top of her head.

 

Naxheer laughed but gave in, leaning her head back against the cushioned rest. The light of late afternoon glittered on her head and horns. “And yes. He was followed about by a Dark Seducer, of all things. A male. He was polite enough, I suppose. He told me his name was Valka.”

 

“Good heavens. If he had a thing like that how could they be as broke as Father thinks they are?”

 

“I don't know. Maybe they're too proud to sell the artifact because it's a family heirloom or something. I don't think he's any kind of mage, I can tell you that. He didn't smell of it. He smelled like he'd been for a long hike out in the ash and dust and something else. Just a little something else. Maybe bonemeal, tiny bit of blood. His clothes weren't fancy.”

 

“Oh. Maybe he went to leave an offering for an ancestor,” Iluni said as she knelt with the wash-bowl and a cloth in her hand. She tried not to sound disappointed. One ought not be sad that someone was trying to become more devout, but if he was planning to soberly mend his ways that might not fit with her plans.

 

“Perhaps,” Naxheer said, slitting her eyes in unconcealed pleasure as Iluni washed between her toes. “Mm. Such clever hands my love has.”

 

“Such a clever tongue  _ my  _ love has,” Iluni said. The Dunmer looked up through her lashes, then smiled.

 

They passed the evening very agreeably. She wished that they could have shared a bed for sleeping as well, but there was always the chance that someone would come in, or that there would be some alarm during the night. She ached that that was denied her. But still – it had been a glorious afternoon.

 

The next day they idled away the morning and prepared to depart late in the afternoon. Naxheer gathered them up a box lunch and a couple of extra things into the cart while Iluni dressed herself appropriately for a visit to the Temple. The dark blue robe was relatively fitted, but the long gray vest embroidered elaborately with silver trama vines concealed and enlarged her figure when she wore it belted tight at the waist, fabric billowing on all sides. The belt was a fine thing as well, the buckle brass inlaid with verses in silver. She wore silver earrings as well, long filigreed things that matched the comb in her hair. The collar of her robe was high but not fashionably snug, wide and pointed enough to look a bit silly, intended to make her look stodgy and older. Naxheer had not gone overboard with the hair today, settling for a simple style that pulled her hair tightly back from her features, braid coiled into a large bun.

 

Naxheer herself was dressed in a way that was modestly appropriate for a fine lady's maid, her black tunic and leggings embroidered with much simpler and cheaper gray thread that still echoed and emphasized what Iluni wore. Iluni hated it, but if she wanted to maintain the illusion of slave and mistress her lover's clothes must be lesser than hers, designed as if to try and de-emphasize the Argonian's natural beauty in favor of hers. She wore no weapon. She didn't know how to use one. If they were ever put to the test her weapons would be her claws and feet.

 

An armsman called J'sola drove them. He was a rare free Khajiit and had been with the family for many years. He was a good hand with the scimitar that he carried and also could be relied upon to drink more than he ought at the slightest chance. Iluni knew he kept a bottle of sujamma under the front seat of the cart. Naxheer knew, too. That was why it was now heavily cut with a fatigue drain they had bought from the alchemist under skar (Iluni had trouble sleeping, she had said).

 

Dutifully she prayed and made her offerings, taking her time inside the temple while Naxheer and J'sola waited outside. She left a sizable offering of gold from her purse and departed with the sunny good wishes of a sympathetic priestess.

 

Naxheer was waiting in the driver's seat, calmly holding the guar's reins. It snorted and purred as Iluni paused to give it a scratch, licking its huge lipless mouth with its fat pink tongue.

 

“Well?” Iluni said.

 

“In back,” Naxheer said. Iluni climbed up beside her and peered into the back of the cart where the other seat and the luggage box were. J'sola lay curled up on the floor half-under the bench, mouth half-open, snoring softly.

 

“All right, then. We're off.” She sat primly beside the Argonian as Naxheer clicked her tongue at the guar.

 

“You have missed a glorious sunset, Muthsera,” Naxheer said. “I trust that your prayers were many and sweet.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Iluni said. “I think they'll be answered, Naxheer.”

 

They put up the hoods of their linen cloaks as they drove on. They left the guar and cart and unconscious armsman beside the cart that was already there, the two animals snuffling at each other with only the mildest interest. The other carter they acknowledged not at all as they pressed forward, Iluni's eyes searching the dim for a masculine figure as they approached the ruined shack.

 

When his light eventually blinked out, Eldrin pulled back from the doorway to look down the way he had come. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and the black shapes of roobrush emerged, their leaved gilded in silver moonlight. It was several minutes later that he heard a rustle and looked sharply up to see two figures approaching. He recognized the shape of what he assumed to be the Argonian from earlier.

 

“Good evening, Sera,” Eldrin said to the Dunmer who accompanied her, breath suddenly catching in his throat. He had never met Iluni Savil before and now here she was standing before him, the mer who held his future in the palm of her hand.

 

To Iluni he loomed out of the darkness like a gray ghost. Under the moons his clothes glittered faintly with silver thread, but the cut of them was severe, the material cheap. The fact that she noticed that at a moment like this one was probably just part and parcel of the fact that she was broken in the head. There could not possibly be a more romantic circumstance than an assignation by moonlight prior to an arranged marriage, but she felt nothing for the figure in front of her except anxiety. She was aware that he was handsome as she was aware that the images of Vivec were handsome.

 

“Good evening, Serjo,” she said softly, pushing back her hood. She was aware of a faint rustle behind her as Naxheer did the same. A glance backward revealed the moonlight glittering golden on the scales of her face, and Iluni felt the same punch-in-the-gut feeling that she always felt when she saw it. The world had more air in it when Naxheer was there. She breathed deeply as she turned to look at her future husband. “If we're to be married I thought we'd better open by being honest with each other.” Her voice was high and small and quiet. “We both know that your family needs money and mine needs a good name. I – I don't mind that if you don't. But there's something else to be talked about that can't get into the Articles.”

 

Eldrin listened quietly, his face as neutral as he could make it, but his brow furrowed slightly in obvious curiosity. So she wasn't trying to scare him off- his heart sank when he realized it.

 

“Well, I'm here,” Eldrin said carefully. “What is it?” He pressed his palms flat against his thighs so that his fingers would not twitch.

 

They must be worse off than Iluni had thought. He ought to be repulsed by the sight of her, but he was polite, careful.

 

"I will make a good wife for you in public," she said. "Respectful. Accomplished. Dull. No one will blame you for doing just as you please. And if you leave me alone in private, except for the Mother's Helper, I will bear you strong sons. I can't love a man with my body. You need have no fear of that sort of infidelity."

 

Eldrin stared blankly at her for several seconds. Then he burst into truly mirthful laughter, a very sharp sound in the otherwise still of the night. He braced one arm against the wall beside himself, suddenly lightheaded.

 

“Oh gods, Iluni Savil, you came to this sad little hovel in the dark to tell me I can't touch you but you'll dutifully pop out sons for me, like a Kwama queen?” He started laughing again, raising his other hand to his mouth. His hand trailed down his braid before dropping when his laughter had ended. He was still smiling, though there was a bittersweet quality to it. She must have suffered, as he did. “I like men, Iluni. I can't love a woman with my body, either.”

 

She glared at him in genuine indignation at first. Here she had risked a great deal and drugged her own armsman and sneaked out to meet him and he was laughing at her!? But then she heard Naxheer choke behind her, trying not to laugh in turn, and she listened to his actual words and grinned reluctantly. Even in the dark it made her younger.

 

"Well, you have to secure your succession," she began, and was interrupted by Naxheer's howl of laughter.

 

"Like a kwama queen," hissed the Argonian, and collapsed onto Iluni's shoulder. That was irresistible. She finally broke into a giggle.

 

"Bless the Merciful Goddess, I'm so sorry. It's a misery, isn't it," she said even as she laughed.

 

Eldrin laughed again with the others. It felt incredibly good. So much stress had released itself all at once. He sobered when he saw the Argonian touch her in so familiar a way.

 

“It's her, isn't it?” he blurted in shock. He was mildly offended by the impropriety of such a relationship before it occurred to him that he rarely acted properly himself.  _ I guess everyone is bedding their slaves now. Was it always this way, or am I only just now old enough to notice? _

 

Iluni darkened for the first time, swallowing as she ceased to laugh. One hand rose to protectively grasp Naxheer's.

 

"Yes," she said quietly. "And it IS in the Articles that you can't sell Naxheer. She is mine and I am hers until one of us is dead. If you let me have this there is nothing else I will deny you." She looked at him worriedly.

 

“You don't need to worry. I won't try to interfere with- whatever this is.” Eldrin smiled slightly and waved his hand dismissively at the two of them, moving off from the wall. He felt a tightness in his chest. Such a dramatic proclamation of love was something one heard often in verse, seldom from the lips of real people. He wondered if Iluni fully appreciated the rare treasure she had found.

 

"Oh, Muthsera," Naxheer said beside Iluni, straightening, still firmly holding her hand.   She looked at Eldrin with tilted head, belated revelation . "Do you love a daedra?"

 

“No,” Eldrin said sharply in response to the Argonian's question, narrowing his eyes. “I would not-”  _ Tread lightly. Iluni's life is now entwined with yours, for better or worse. It will not do to insult her.  _ Although he was offended by the implication, he continued neutrally. “Valka is a servant, and I have no interest in anyone of that status.”

 

_ Anyone of that status _ . Iluni's eyes narrowed. Of course. She had lived quietly in her own little world for so long that she had forgotten how important the game of Nobody-Must-Know was to her happiness and Naxheer's.

 

"One is sorry to give offense," Naxheer said, and Iluni silently bristled as she saw from the corner of one eye that the Argonian had lowered her head, one horn tilted up to suggest the raising of the apology spine she did not have.

 

But no. It was Naxheer who was right, as bitterly as that realization seethed in her gut. This man could make their lives a misery if they did not placate him.

 

"As long as it's not too... loud... I don't mind whoever it is," Iluni said. "And we will be very discreet. You will never hear of it again from either of us unless there is a very good reason." She smiled at him carefully, the curve of her lips small and tentative. "I think we will get on fine."

 

“There isn't anyone in particular, yet,” Eldrin said awkwardly, glancing skyward.  _ Probably just a long string of prostitutes throughout my life. _ “But yes, I believe so as well.” He returned the tiny smile, then hesitated, suddenly looking a bit lost.

 

“I don't mean to have you putting on a facade in the privacy of your own home. I know how stressful that is, to some extent. I have no desire to control you. I want my freedom as much as you want yours.” Eldrin shrugged helplessly, feeling that he was rambling. He didn't know how to express his thoughts. Sure, he didn't exactly want to see a betmer shoving her tongue down a Dunmer's throat at the dining table, but if they knew one another's secret there was no reason to pretend they did not. He'd had quite enough of pretending.

 

"That's very generous of you," Iluni said, eyes searching his face. That was a confusing reversal after what he'd just said. Perhaps he did not quite know his own mind. Her mother had sometimes said that men were changeable creatures and how fortunate she was that Barhed Savil was so different from the others. She laughed again, a breathless little chuckle. "You can't imagine how relieved I am. I think I'll actually look forward to the official meeting now." She bowed over her clasped hands. "I won't keep you out here all night. Thank you so much, Serjo."

 

“The same to you, Sera,” Eldrin said, bowing deeply in return. He did not have the time or the words to express his gratitude to Iluni today. She was understandably preoccupied with her own situation and might not realize the gift she had given him. “I will see you then.” 

 

As they hurried back to the wagon he heard Naxheer tell her excitedly, 

 

"Do you realize what this means? I can make your things all pretty, so that everyone sees! We are safe!"  He smiled wistfully at their backs as they departed and made his way down to his own cart slowly, giving them time to clear out first. His heart was still heavy, lovesick and jealous, but those feelings did not overwhelm him and his shoulders were light. For the first time in a very long time, Eldrin felt that everything was going to be all right.

 

The night was still young. Perhaps he would find friends waiting at the Cat's Paw. Eldrin wasn't really dressed for that, but he could claim he had just come from the Temple. He might even formally announce his engagement! Eldrin grinned to himself. Surely that would earn him a few rounds from everyone else.

 

Eldrin was in too grand a mood to ride alone. He called upon Valka, standing before the cart.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Valka's feelings were mixed as he crested a low hill and saw the trees begin to thin ahead and below. The walls of a city jutted from a lower prominence up ahead, one guard tower with a pointed roof and a crooked neck standing above the crenellated wall. He felt it had been too long since he heard another Mazken speak, walked the streets of a city of Dementia. And yet, some kind of penalty for his tardiness was likely, and questions about the book even more so. Few Mazken were permitted to own possessions beyond their armor and weapons, and those were of rank; and would not Eldrin also then punish him if the book was destroyed?

 

The unbreakable grip of the summons came almost as a relief. He looked around. It was night here as well, under thin, strange stars and the soft blue light of one and one-half moons. There was a cart drawn by a two-legged lizard beast that looked as though it were all mouth, and a Dunmer driver in common clothes gaping at him, and yes, there was Eldrin, dressed more soberly than Valka had yet seen.

 

Valka wordlessly offered him the book, trying not to show relief on his face. His shoulders must tell the tale, pauldrons pointed somewhat downward. The Mazken was clean and composed, and he no longer moved tiredly.

 

Eldrin took the book and climbed up into the cart, smoothing down his robe behind him as he seated himself on a bench. He was still smiling broadly. The air smelled so very fresh and clean tonight!

 

“Driver, do you know the Cat's Paw Cornerclub by the manor district? There, please,” he said when Valka had seated himself. His hands were clasped over the book on his lap.

 

“Ah... Yes, Serjo. Of course.” The mer was obviously startled by the presence of the daedra but Eldrin offered no explanation. The cart jolted slightly when the guar lifted up on its haunches and pulled forward, complaining briefly with a groany-squeaky purr.

 

“Well, Valka, I just met with my fiancee - B'vek, that sounds so odd to say - and I think she and I will get along very well.” He could not be explicit about her situation, even in front of a commoner. People did talk. 

 

"Congratulations, Master Eldrin," Valka said politely. This, at least, he understood completely. He sat straight-backed beside the Dunmer, spear propped against the floor of the cart. It did not bother him that he looked a bit ridiculous sitting up behind a fat lizard on a bouncing wooden wheeled thing. It was among the less ridiculous of his recent experiences, really.

 

“She has no interest in me and will be content to leave me to my own devices, and I will offer her the same courtesy. Did you finish the book?” He looked at Valka, pleased and expectant.

 

"Yes, I have read all of it. I am confused on several points, the first being why you wished me to read a collection of sermons by a cleric of the Tribunal."

 

“You don't know very much about this world or the Dunmer people. I am aware that to the - ” Eldrin was about to use the word “heathens” but changed his mind at the last moment. “-That is, in some societies religion is not the centerpiece of the culture. The Imperials are like this. So are betmer. I thought that daedra choose their own Prince, which means your culture and religion are divorced as well, unless I'm wrong about that. But we are not like that. Faith and obedience to Almsivi is central to our lives. What I'm trying to say is that I want you to understand how my world works, and the only way to really know the Dunmer as a people is to know the teachings of the Temple.”

 

Eldrin breathed in deeply when he had finished speaking, as if the explanation had taxed him.

 

“What else were you confused about?” he asked patiently.

 

Valka listened to this explanation seriously, without interruption. He actually nodded slightly at the suggestion that culture and religion were divorced. Mazken were not usually devout in the same sense as religious mortals. Their relationship to the Madgod was much more direct, as of a potentate and his subjects as much as a god and his worshippers. There was acknowledgement of power, but not a great deal of awe.

 

“You are trying to live your life according to these precepts?”

 

Eldrin shifted slightly, fingers curling under the front cover of the book. He cleared his throat.

 

“Well, nobody is perfect. I know I'm not perfect. But yes, that's the idea.”

 

“It appears to me that you have attained the Grace of Pride,” Valka said.

 

“Yes, I am proud, what's wrong with that?” Eldrin asked in a slightly accusatory tone, frowning.

 

"According to the sermons, nothing. In pursuit of which of these did we remove the skull that you traded for the urn?"

 

Eldrin thought for a moment, looking thoughtfully up and to the right before his eyes settled on Valka's again. He knew Valka was trying to trap him, trying to criticize his behavior. Eldrin already admitted he was not perfect. He was doing his best.

 

“That's a complicated situation that you don't know the full story behind. My father's business is in egg mines... Uh, Kwama eggs are a food that we eat. The animals you saw at the ring when I punched Zoso were the larval form of a Kwama queen. Anyway. You heard him saying that my own uncle unleashed a disease on the Kwama and my family has been suffering financially because of that.” He leaned forward and cupped his hand to whisper at Valka. The driver wouldn't be able to hear him over the rattle of the cart. “The urn is enchanted. It's going to ruin my uncle Llethri financially the way he tried to do to us. I don't know what the value of the skull is, but those people asked me to trade it for the urn.”

 

He sat up straight again.

 

“Justice. Valor. Daring, to answer your question.”

 

Valka continued to listen impassively. After one brief glance of acknowledgement he kept his eyes forward, away from Eldrin's. He did his best to conceal the spurt of adrenaline he felt at Eldrin that close to touching him, but he visibly breathed faster for a second. He was aware that he was pushing his luck.

 

“Yes, I heard,” he said. He clamped his jaw shut rather than ask the next question. Eldrin had been annoyed at a relatively mild criticism, and if he was going to have his throat cut again he would rather it was in private and not in front of the carter.

 

Eldrin frowned slightly, searching Valka's face, trying to understand his expression, trying to glean subtext from the tone of his voice. Then his shoulders sagged and Eldrin turned away, frown smoothing out. He leaned one arm on the rail of the cart as he looked up at the stars. He had tried very hard to be patient and polite, but Valka still didn't want to talk to him. He was just biding his time until he could be away from Eldrin. That bothered him for reasons Eldrin didn't understand, even though he  _ did _ understand why Valka would hate him.

 

Briefly Eldrin considered apologizing for the way he had treated the Mazken. But that was idiotic. Masters did not apologize to their slaves. He would appear weak. Eldrin had not been wrong to begin with. Or had he? Eldrin didn't know. He sighed.

 

“What was Kerghed like?” Eldrin asked. He looked at Valka from the corner of his eye, but he didn't move his head much.

 

Valka relaxed slightly without realizing that he had done so, lowering his chin as he exhaled.

 

“He was clever, cautious,” he said. “Cold and clear in his thoughts. I cannot say that he was never cruel, because some of the experiments in which I participated were agonizingly painful and some were also protracted, but I can say that there was always a definite reason for anything that he did to my body or mind. I think that he studied long over the commands that he would use, because they were very carefully worded.” He thought back in the new context of what he now understood. “At the time I never knew he was married. He summoned me only in his work spaces, or in a ruin where he needed me to escort him as his bodyguard. He never said anything that was not immediately relevant to the task.”

 

Eldrin turned to face Valka fully, lips parted in minor shock, his arm still on the side of the cart. “Wait, what do you mean by 'experiments'?”

 

“He was an alchemist as well as an enchanter,” Valka explained, turning to watch Eldrin warily. “He had many ideas about whether the state of extraction affected the alchemical properties of the daedric heart, and in what way.”

 

 

Eldrin's mouth was suddenly dry.

 

“You mean that he was... harvesting your heart? Over and over again?” His fingers tightened on the rail, on the book in his hand.

 

_ A single grunt of pain. Eyes wet with tears. Blood, so much blood.  _ Eldrin's lips pressed tightly together, brows furrowing. He glanced away from Valka's eyes.

 

“Of course,” Valka said. “He did not share his conclusions, and I never saw the tests he did afterward, so I never found out if he learned what he wanted to know. I think that he must not have. He never seemed particularly angry at me personally, but the testing ended only when he stopped summoning me.” He thought about this. “He was very old at that point. I believe it was because he died.”

 

He frowned slightly as he turned to look at Eldrin again. The mer seemed agitated.

 

Eldrin felt ill. Physically punishing a slave for misbehavior was one thing. Killing a being capable of experiencing pain over and over again when they'd done nothing to deserve it was nothing short of torture.

 

Shame and guilt flooded his body like a cold chill on the inside of his skin. Eldrin tried to tell himself that he wasn't like that; he'd only done it once, when Valka had mouthed off to him. At the time he thought death would be nothing, a slap on the wrist, to an immortal being. The realization that he had been wrong to do it had been growing slowly over the past few days and now the knowledge of his own cruelty bloomed fully, terribly, in Eldrin's mind.

 

“How did he do it?” Eldrin asked stiffly, already knowing he didn't want to hear the answer. Looking at Valka was difficult but he did it, brows furrowed. He was not aware that some of the color had drained from his face, leaving him ashy-pale.

 

Valka blanched visibly at the question.  _ No. No. No. If you want me to feel pain, inflict pain. Don't keep tormenting me with words first! _

 

His lips opened despite himself.

 

“I built the frame at his direction. He was able to summon a Xivilai for a few minutes at a time to lift the supports that I could not.” He tried to calm himself with that memory. Eldrin could not possibly. Eldrin was no magister.

 

_ He does not have to be. He only has to have some kind of horizontal surface. And a tanto. And the order for you to hold still. _

 

“I would lie on it at his direction and he would cut and pry.” He drew a thumb down the center of his chest. There was no scar. There would never be scars. “he had tools for holding the ribs apart once they were broken. He would heal me enough to keep me from dying as he worked.”

 

Here he stopped to breathe, not even trying to resist but physically unable to continue for a second as his chest contracted in terror. His eyes on Eldrin's were pleading.  _ Please don't make me do this. Please don't make this another game. _

 

He could not interpret Eldrin's expression. He had looked so before he had cut Valka's throat, but he could not understand the reason for that anger this time.

 

Eldrin held up a hand, turning his face away again. He leaned his weight on the arm that held the rail.

 

“Stop. I don't want to hear any more.” His eyes locked onto a passing trama root, a black, thorny jumble that slowly slid from his view as the cart rumbled past. Eldrin's hand dropped to his lap, curling into a fist.

 

“I'm sorry, Valka,” Eldrin spoke softly, his face still turned to watch the landscape pass. “I won't be the kind of master Kerghed was.”

 

Valka smothered his gasp of relief, shoulders shuddering once as he turned his face away.

 

“I – you – ” he stammered for a second, breathed, shut his eyes. “You don't intend to build your own frame.”

 

“No,” Eldrin said stiffly, his entire body tensing at that implication.  _ This is what Valka thinks of me?  _ Then his voice softened again and he actually looked at Valka. “Of course I don't. I don't want to torture you.” He felt a stab of alien emotions when his eyes landed on the Mazken's face, too many colors all mixing to black so that he could not identify a single one. Valka had been terrified. Now Eldrin faced the confusing impulse to offer comfort somehow.  If he had been speaking to one of his friends and saw them make this face, he might move over, touch a hand to their shoulder, something--

 

But that wasn't appropriate, and it was even less so because Eldrin was the one he was terrified of. He could only sit there, staring at Valka with a mixture of misery and confusion.

 

“You don't want to.” He stared back, calmer now but just as confused. “I do not understand you. Master Eldrin, what is it that you want from me?”

 

“I want you to obey me because you want to, not only because I've ordered you,” Eldrin answered, expression slowly relaxing toward neutral.

 

It was a half-truth but it was as much as Eldrin honestly realized himself.

 

Valka turned his eyes forward again, adjusting his grip on the spear.

 

“The second time you summoned me you asked if I hated you,” he said. “And you were pleased that I said yes.”

 

Eldrin tensed again.

 

“Yes. I was pleased.” He sighed through his nose and ran his hand down his hair, tugging it, frustrated. Eldrin didn't know how to explain himself. He frowned at the stars over Valka's head for several moments while he thought, and finally settled on the terse reply, “You aren't what I expected a daedra to be.”

 

“What did you expect, Master Eldrin?” He tried not to stiffen in response to Eldrin's tension. He was gradually beginning to realize that perhaps he had misinterpreted the mer's behavior for some while. On the occasion that Eldrin had cut his throat there had been significant provocation on both sides. He had lost his daggers, his only possessions of note; Eldrin had sneered at that; he had vented his ire in a lengthy vituperation and Eldrin, who had no control at all over his own temper, had responded predictably. Afterward he had probably thought up the deception at the tomb in hopes of finding a less violent way of securing Valka's cooperation. He was white and set when he asked about Kerghed because he was  _ disturbed  _ by the violence he had committed.

 

That had not occurred to Valka because having his throat cut had been the less unpleasant of those two experiences. It was gradually dawning on him that Eldrin felt that situation to be exactly reversed.

 

Now Eldrin shrugged. His opinions about daedra were not things he had consciously decided. They sat dormant in the backdrop of his life, forming out of bits and pieces of information he had absorbed along the way.

 

He felt some relief that the topic was beginning to shift away from his personal feelings toward Valka.

 

“Daedra are violent and cruel. They are jealous of mortals and so they hate us. Those that roam Tamriel will cut us down without provocation if they have the chance. They are not--”  _ People? _ “--Things that feel pain. If you could have power over an enemy - a Golden Saint, perhaps - and see the hatred in his eyes, wouldn't it bring you some pleasure?”

 

“It did not bring me pleasure,” Valka said quietly. “If a Mazken brings in enough Aureal weapons, they are raised in rank. But what have the Aureal done to me? Less than my fellow Mazken have done.”  _ Less than my mortal masters have done.  _ He thought over the first part of what Eldrin had said, calmly now, one hand resting relaxed on his thigh.

 

“ _ We feel pain, and fear it,”  _ he quoted. “The vermai fear nothing because they have no thoughts, but even they feel pain.” He smiled very slightly. It was not a happy expression.

 

“It is true that we are jealous of you. You are fragile, perishable, you end, and yet you do not despair. You have the favor of the Princes. They give gifts to you that no daedric hand is permitted to touch. Our Master's own staff is now in mortal hands, and has been for many years, and will be again. There are Mazken and Aureal that have served him a thousand years and will never be suffered to touch the Wabbajack. Daedra that roam Tamriel are in yet worse case than the rest of us. Some have wandered here unwitting and cannot return home until they are slain by mortal hands, risking the Darkness. Some have been banished here as a punishment. Some have fled the disfavor of the Princes and are in the worst case of all because at some point they will be found.”

 

Eldrin listened seriously, watching Valka's eyes. He still did not really understand what Mazken were like socially, but the fact that Valka was four hundred years old and had never had a romantic relationship seemed to suggest they were not friendly with one another. Now he implied that other Mazken were unkind to him, which reinforced that idea. And yet, Valka spoke easily enough. He was capable of being polite. He did not seem to mind their conversations, and he claimed that daedra could experience love and loss. Was Valka the only friendly Mazken? Did he act viciously to others of his own race? Why didn't anyone seem to get along in the Isles?

 

“So why exactly would you ever want to return to Oblivion if you are treated poorly, and why do you want to serve Sheogorath?” Eldrin asked slowly, confused. “When I asked before you said that it was all you'd ever known. That's not a real answer. It isn't all you know anymore, and in any case, what was stopping you from seeking something else?”

 

“There is nothing alive that would choose slavery over any small freedom. Even a poor one. Even one where the risk of punishment is high and the offer of reward is small,” Valka said softly. He shrugged one shoulder. “But suppose that I were free. Do you see free daedra walking your streets, talking as mortal with mortal? No. I would be hunted for my heart, my flesh, like any beast. In the plane of another daedra prince I must carve out a place through many enemies, and the Lord still might not suffer me to stay. The Isles are beautiful and there are moments when I hear the Master's voice. I am low there, but I belong. Every tenth day is mine and I walk its hills and groves with joy in the silence. No punishment will take my tenth-day. If they did that there would be rebellion among Mazken and Aureal alike.”

 

Eldrin's eyes widened in clear horror at the mention of this tenth-day rule. Even Tsamabi had more free time allotted to her than that. He could not imagine living such a life. That his time would no longer be his own was perhaps Eldrin's greatest fear when it came to facing his future. For several seconds Eldrin looked as though he were collecting his thoughts before replying.

 

“Whatever,” Eldrin finally sighed instead, slouching back against the cart and looking aside to watch the scenery once more. He could not refute anything Valka had said. He was confused about his own feelings.. Eldrin pitied Valka, just a little. He didn't like that. It was an ugly, horrible emotion and it ought not be wasted on a damned daedra.

 

_ He would slay you where you stood if the ring did not prevent it. Remember that. _

 

This time Valka looked at Elrin's face as he spoke, though it was easy to be absorbed in his own thoughts. That was against what he had been taught:  _ always watch a mortal closely. Know their thoughts that you may turn them this way or that according to the needs of the moment. Even the mad can be turned as water is turned in a channel, if you learn the ways of their particular madness. _

 

But Eldrin had consistently failed to comply with his experience of mortals to date. He was not the cold and towering intellect Kerghed had been; he was not the gloomy despairing inertia that some of the Demented had been; he was not the murderous and unpredictable hatred that some of the others had been. He was foolish and clever. He claimed an order to his actions but he seemed to be the architect of spiraling confusion around himself. He was, above all things, contradictory.

 

_ Perhaps I am here for a reason after all. _

 

He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or awed or wary of that thought.

 

Still: something he had said had made an impression again. There was no knowing what was going on inside Eldrin's head. Perhaps he responded to the idea of freedom to do as one wished. It seemed important to him personally, or he would not have been so glad to learn that his wife would not interfere with his activities.

 

Women seemed to have much lower status here. He should probably ask about that at some point, if Eldrin wanted him to learn about mortal life.

 

 

Eldrin forced his mind toward happier thoughts as the cart passed the guard towers of Ald'ruhn. Everything had been worked out with Iluni, and his financial problems would be over as soon as they were married regardless of what happened with the egg mines. He still needed to figure out how to avoid being sent off to Almas Thirr, but there was time enough to deal with that. Eldrin's pulse quickened when he could finally see the Cat's Paw Cornerclub, and he hopped down from the back of the wagon before it had even rolled to a complete stop, jogging over to the driver's side to pay his fare with a grin. He hoped Teris was already inside.

 

Valka vaulted from the cart one-handed and followed Eldrin inside what appeared to be another drinking establishment. He nodded politely to the barmaid. She seemed displeased to see them, but he quelled an anxious twist in his gut on that account: in this world she was a paid employee and Eldrin was a – whatever Eldrin was. Not an officer, but someone of high status, apparently. Perhaps the equivalent of one of Crucible's lower courtiers.

 

Teris was downstairs at their usual table, chatting with a mer Eldrin did not know so well, Rilver Gilvayn. None of his other friends were present. That was not so unusual - most of the others in the group did not drink as often or as hard as Eldrin and Teris did. The barmaid who had been present last time frowned disapprovingly at Valka from across the room, but Eldrin didn't care. He would dismiss the daedra if someone asked him to, not before. The cheerful, bouncing tune played on mandolin was the perfect mirror to Eldrin's own mood.

 

“Eldrin!” Teris exclaimed when he saw his friend approach, slapping the table across from himself to indicate Eldrin should sit. “Earlier I was telling Rilver about what happened at the forager pit the other day. You know Rilver Gilvayn, don't you? You've met at the arena, I'm pretty sure.” Rilver was a large, burly sort of mer with a stolid face and short black hair, and he was staring past Eldrin at Valka very seriously. He seemed less drunk than Teris, sitting up straight while Teris alternated between slouching forward or leaning back against his chair, always with his limbs splayed.

 

“That's right, you were with Drissa. It's good to see you again, Serjo,” Eldrin said, settling into the chair across from Teris with his back to the room. He set the book down in the empty chair beside himself. Rilver was on his right.  Valka took up station behind Eldrin's chair, eyes flickering over the others silently. His face was calmly neutral. 

 

“So you really do have a Seducer. And he broke Lothon's hand with just his fist?” Rilver asked, raising a thick brow.

 

“Of course,” Eldrin said, grinning proudly. He hadn't been so happy about that at the time, but if it made a good story...

 

“Hey!” Teris slapped the table again, rattling the glasses. “When Lilivah comes over here, ask her for a metal cup! I want to see if he can crush it!”

 

Eldrin chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm.

 

“I don't know about that. She was giving us the eye a minute ago. I'd like not to be thrown out this night.” But Eldrin was still smiling brightly and his tone suggested he could easily be goaded into allowing it.

 

At the suggestion that he crush a cup for them Valka rolled his eyes upward for just a second. Games and toys. Well, that was familiar, wasn't it.

 

Rilver had been watching Valka closely, and now the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk, skin crinkling slightly around his eyes.

 

“What do you do with him?” Rilver asked, finally moving his eyes to Eldrin.

 

“What do you mean? He's a body guard and servant. He does whatever I want.”

 

“Bit of a waste, isn't it?” Rilver crossed his arms and shrugged indifferently. “I mean, if I had a daedra I think I would fight it. How many nix hounds do you think he could take at once? Or a dreugh?”

 

“Ha, betting on fights is all Rilver ever thinks about,”Teris laughed, mock-punching Rilver's arm with the weight of his entire body. Rilver didn't budge at all and Teris pushed off against him, wobbling in the other direction before he caught the edge of the table to pull himself upright.

 

“Well, it's an idea,” Eldrin said uncertainly. He turned his face aside, eyes flicking up at the purple shape that he could just make out in his peripheral vision. He would have enthusiastically agreed with that suggestion two days ago, but now he wasn't so sure. He felt his stomach tie itself up in knots. How could he veto that idea without sounding strange? He didn't have any good reason not to do it.

 

Valka listened blandly, now in control of his face. It sounded dull. He knew what those creatures were, and unless it was monstrous in size he did not think even a dreugh would challenge him unless he were trapped underwater until the fight was over and therefore limited by his need for air. Still, it wasn't a dreadful thing to have to do if it kept Eldrin happy. Until they escalated to the point where he had to fight other daedra. He had faced dremora at Kerghed's instigation. He had often died.

 

For that matter, “how many nix hounds” sounded as if they would just keep adding larger packs until he was ploughed under. That did not sound like an enjoyable proceeding either. Still, it could be worse. He looked down at Eldrin with one eyebrow raised slightly:  _ if you must. _

 

Eldrin was saved for the moment by Lilivah bringing him the sujamma she knew he would want, and Eldrin raised his glass to the others before gratefully downing his first drink of the day. He sighed happily when it hit his belly, and Teris was already picking up Eldrin's bottle to pour him another. He was never pleased unless someone was close to being as drunk as he was, and it seemed like Rilver would not be that person tonight.

 

Valka's nostrils flared as he recognized the scent of sujamma. He would probably end up doing something humiliating before the night was out, but at least it probably wouldn't be fighting twenty nix hounds.

 

The door opened. Valka glanced that way automatically, without much interest, and saw a Dunmer dressed all in black silks: snug-fitted high-necked tunic, loose trousers bound with black ribbon at the ankles, soft shoes, long vest. The embroidery was also black and seemed to mostly consist of ornately scripted words that were hard to read but that might be excerpts from a book about vampires. There was a straight dagger belted to his hip, a different style from the curved short-blade Eldrin wore – the others would recognize it as more in the Imperial style – and a sheen of orange crawled over the hilt when the light hit it just right. His hair was shoulder length and black with reddish highlights, pinned back at the top to keep it out of his face but with the lower half hanging loose. His face was angular and narrow and, Valka thought, angry. He stalked over to the bar area to lean there with his elbows, signaling for a drink, and the bartender poured for him from a small blue bottle.

 

Eldrin had a few more drinks while listening to Rilver tell them about a battle between a fire atronach and two hungers he had seen while visiting Vivec on a rare day when a pair of summoners had battled in the arena there. Eldrin was becoming loose and floaty on top of the giddiness he already felt, and he wished he could brag of how easily Valka had obliterated a bonewalker and a skeletal guardian.

 

“Valka would destroy any kind of atronach, you name it,” Eldrin insisted, cutting Rilver off. Teris leaned forward and squinted, looking past Eldrin's shoulder.

 

“Hey, Eldrin, isn't that your cousin, Sanvyn?”

 

Eldrin turned clumsily in his seat, knocking his fist lightly against Valka's arm to get him to stand aside so that he could see the bar.  _ He's so hot _ . Eldrin's chin jerked suddenly up to stare at Valka's face with mild surprise, his features otherwise lax with drunkenness. It was the first time they had touched skin-to-skin, although he had been aware of Valka's heat when he grabbed his hair before.

 

“I really think it is him,” Teris was saying, drawing Eldrin back to the present. His eyes lazily dropped to check and his face became animated with mean excitement when he recognized his cousin.

 

“Merciful Three, what is he wearing? I can't believe I'm related to that gloomy stodge.”

 

“You're one to talk, Eldrin,” Teris laughed. “Did you borrow that robe from your father?”

 

“Shut up,” Eldrin said, whipping around to face Teris again. It took a second for the room to stop moving after he did and Eldrin sat blinking until the vertigo cleared. “I came from.. Uh, the Temple, earlier.”

 

“Sanvyn thinks he's a vampire. No one will tell him how embarrassing he is because his father's on the Council,” Teris explained to Rilver, who had been listening with mild amusement to their petty comments. A broad, toothy grin broke across Teris's face, and he reached across the table for Eldrin with a cork from one of the bottles in his palm.

 

“Eldrin. Eldrin! Make Valka throw this at him.”

 

All three burst into laughter, Eldrin and Teris bubbly and wild, Rilver with a more reserved chuckle. Eldrin took the cork and turned around in his chair again, warmth flooding his insides when his fingers brushed against Teris. He held it up on the flat of his palm.

 

“Okay, Valka. Bean him right on the back of the head. I order you not to miss!”

 

 

Sanvyn Llethri sat sipping his flin and staring at nothing, eyes half-closed. It had not been an easy day. He had returned from a long trip to the ebony mine – and he loathed the ebony mine – to find his friends all giving him strange looks for reasons he did not understand. He finally got Suji Nethrin, who had had a crush on him since they were both 10, to admit that everyone thought his father had ordered his uncle's egg mines sabotaged. He had spent the entire day trying to backtrack this rumor and found it somewhat difficult, his own seething anger probably not encouraging people to be forthright with him.

 

By this time no one really knew who had started what. Suji's friend Vanalei had the vague idea that she had heard it from Teris, who must have heard it from Eldrin because Eldrin had been so angry over it that he had punched Zoso Vorfayn at the pits yesterday. It was this sort of nonsense that made Sanvyn desperately long for another kind of life entirely, where he would go out only at night and life would have the simplicity of hunting for people he hated and drinking them dry to his own significant pleasure, of having unquestioned power without the need for things like food or drink or housing or any sort of damned hot tunnel full of unhappy and odorous betmer.

 

So far he had hunted through several ancestral tombs with dagger and bow and found only ghosts. With all of this family nonsense he did not have time to really pursue what he sought, and that, too, made him angry.

 

There were laughing, drunken voices behind him. He ignored them.

 

\---

 

Valka moved to one side as he realized why Eldrin was thumping him in the arm with a cold fist. He felt a premonitory sense of annoyance. Eldrin taking notice of other people had not yet ended well for anyone concerned. He looked down into Eldrin's big-eyed face with brows knit in warning:  _ don't. _

 

That was ignored. Valka obediently took up the cork, gauntleted fingers curled around the nearly weightless object.

 

“Do you want him killed?” Valka asked patiently. “If not, what degree of injury do you want him to suffer?”

 

“Are you saying you could kill a mer with a  _ cork _ ?” Rilver asked, clearly skeptical.

 

“Come on Valka, quit playing stupid. You know I don't want to kill anyone. Toss it  _ lightly _ , all right?” Eldrin said. Now that he had a second to think about it, Eldrin was beginning to have misgivings, but he could feel Teris grinning expectantly behind him.

 

That was as much warning as Valka felt his orders allowed him to give; trying to argue with Eldrin in public would only make him angry again. He completely ignored Rilver. He had not been ordered to respond to anyone else and be damned to Eldrin's lazy, revolting friends. He shrugged one shoulder and pelted the mer in the black clothes unerringly in the back of the head.

 

Sanvyn jerked upright, one hand clapped to the back of his hair, and spun furiously to look behind him. A cork rolled away across the floor in front of him and back toward a table occupied by... That damned fetcher Eldrin and his idiot friends and what was certainly a Dark Seducer. So he  _ did  _ have some kind of daedra-summoning artifact now. He noted that in passing as he stalked coldly toward the table.

 

Eldrin whirled around the moment the cork hit, clapping his hands over his mouth. His shoulders shook with stifled laughter. Teris was howling like an idiot, head thrown back with an arm over his eyes, as expected. Rilver grinned.

 

“Eldrin,” Sanvyn said coldly, leaning his hands on the table. “I'm glad you've stopped hiding from me. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down.”

 

Eldrin crossed his arms over his chest and tried to favor his cousin with a very serious frown, fighting the smile tugging at his lips. Teris was trying to speak but he was laughing so hard that he could hardly get the words out.

 

“Haa—Huuu! Hunting! Ahahahaha!”

 

“I wasn't hiding from you, Sanvyn. What do you want?” Eldrin asked coolly.

 

“--HUNTING him down for his BLOOOOD? Ahahahahaha!” Teris finally bleated. Eldrin's poise broke with an undignified “pfffft,” and then he was laughing, too.

 

Sanvyn waited for a gap in the noise, lips folded down tightly. Valka watched him even as the others seemed preoccupied with their own mirth, wary of the weapon at his hip. He was aware of the Dunmer glancing up at him with only mild, even disdainful curiosity before he returned his attention to the others.

 

“I'm glad that I have succeeded in amusing you thundering morons,” he said, when both of them had to pause to breathe. “In fact, I've been looking for you to ask why you're telling everyone that my father had your egg mines sabotaged. This is an offense against honor that I am not inclined to overlook.”

 

Teris seemed to sober up suddenly, falling quiet and watching the proceedings with large eyes. He was, in fact, the one who had cheerfully repeated the story of the encounter at the pits to several others.

 

“You have no honor to offend, Sanvyn,” Eldrin said darkly, suddenly cold with fury. He uncrossed his arms, one fist settling on the table as he turned his body in his chair to face the other mer more fully. “Your family operates with dirty underhanded tricks like a bunch of Hlaalu.”

 

“You will meet me for that,” Sanvyn said, his hands clenching into fists on the tabletop. His tone remained level. “In your house or mine, with the weapons of your choice, but you will answer or you will be known forever as the cowardly fetcher that you are.”

 

Eldrin stood abruptly to glare at Sanvyn eye-to-eye, chair scraping back. He kept one hand on the table to steady himself. Teris and Rilver were both utterly silent as they stared.

 

“You call me a coward? Who would ever be afraid of a lunatic who slinks around in the dark? I will meet you-- in your house, with spears and not the brittle steel of the Imperial s'wits. Name the date and I'll be there,” he growled. His breath stank of sujamma.

 

“Tomorrow at four o'clock. That should be late enough for you to be awake,” Sanvyn sneered. “Try not to be drunk, if you possibly can. Or maybe you'd rather. It'll hurt slightly less. It's all the same to me.” He raked the others with a glance, straightened, and walked stiffly out.

 

Valka watched him go. Then he turned to look down at Eldrin. Slowly he shook his head.


	11. Chapter 11

Teris stifled a laugh as Sanvyn walked away. Eldrin wasn't sure what part of that he found funny, but it hurt.

 

“Have you got something to say?” Eldrin snapped, glaring up at Valka from the side.

 

“If I do have something to say, how severe will the punishment be?” Valka asked calmly.

 

“Gah!” Eldrin growled. He slumped back down in his chair and drained the rest of his drink, plonking the glass hard on the table when he was done.

 

“Hey, this will be great,” Teris said cheerfully. “Sanvyn won't talk so tough after you knock him on his ass, right Eldrin?”

 

“Yeah,” Eldrin said without emotion. He was staring sourly at the wall past Teris. Rilver quietly took a sip of his own drink, although he was watching Eldrin's face very thoughtfully.

 

“I can provide you with certain helpful potions,” Rilver offered carefully.

 

“What?” Eldrin jerked to face him, fist clenching around his empty glass. “No! I don't need to cheat!” Rilver quickly held up his hands placatingly and shrugged.

 

“It was only an offer,” he said, smiling. Eldrin slapped a palm to his face and sunk down into his hand, elbow on the table.

 

“Ugh. Maybe I should go home and sleep if I have to do this tomorrow....”

 

“Probably wise,” Rilver agreed. Teris was pouring himself another glass.

 

“What, Eldrin? But it's so early!" Teris whined.

 

Valka listened to all of this with growing contempt, one corner of his lip lifted slightly.  _ No wonder Eldrin is the way he is. He gets slightly better every hour he is away from these people.  _ That he had seemed to grow gradually less cruel and arbitrary over the last couple of days had not, perhaps, been a coincidence at all.

 

_ I have never had a friend. But I am sure this is not what that looks like. _

 

He felt deep pity for Eldrin that he was in love with a creature like Teris, whom Valka found more revolting every second. He had never expected that. It disturbed him.

 

“No...” Eldrin said reluctantly, miserably, pushing himself away from the table and standing. “My honor is on the line here. I have to take it seriously...” His thoughts were foggy and unclear, but he at least knew this much. Eldrin opened his mouth again and then hesitated. No, he couldn't ask Teris to walk him home. That would be odd. And Teris would just say no, anyway. Eldrin shut his lips and tossed down coin to pay for his drinks.

 

“Good night, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Rilver. Come see the fight tomorrow, yeah?” He forced a cocky grin and Rilver nodded. Teris whined a little more that Eldrin was leaving but he extricated himself with a wave and another good-bye. Eldrin staggered in a zig-zag toward the door when he finally turned to leave, bumping one or two other tables with his hip and bouncing off them. He hadn't realized he was quite so drunk.

 

Valka turned on his heel to follow Eldrin without a second look at the others. He also had not quite realized the degree of Eldrin's inebriation. He walked faster to catch up as they approached the door. It was dangerous to try and help him in front of his acquaintances, but once they were outside he would keep very close by Eldrin's elbow in case the Dunmer stumbled. He had been summoned far from here and never seen the path from this place to the manor. He hoped his master was not too drunk to navigate.

 

The night air was something like a pleasant splash of cold water on Eldrin’s face, his neck. He  inhaled deeply and sighed. His limbs and heart felt so heavy now and not even the beauty of a clear night in Ald'ruhn could mend it. He navigated by the feel of cobblestone under his feet to keep himself more or less walking straight, stopping now and then to look blearily around and orient himself. They were utterly alone. The occasional soft flutter of cloth signs and the tap of their boots were the only sounds to break the stillness.

 

“Ah, this is a good thing,” Eldrin muttered to Valka. “I can get the urn in. I don't know how. You'll have to do it, I think. What were you going to say to me at the Club? I won't be angry.” He spoke with little emotion, only a touch of weariness.

 

"If you give me a knapsack to carry that contains water or bandages or some other logical item I can also carry the urn. It is better that you not touch it," Valka said. He was not thrilled that Eldrin was pursuing this course at all, but that was not for him to decide. All he could do was mitigate the damage to Eldrin himself and hope someone in the other Llethri household found the thing.

 

"You know that you have not done the thing of which he accused you," Valka continued after a moment. "But you did not deny it, which makes it seem as though you have, not only to him but to the others. And now you will fight him over something that you did not actually do, accepting that guilt whether you win or lose. And you will lose." He was surprised by the dropping feeling in his gut as an idea occurred to him. "This is not a duel to the death, is it?"

 

“Ha. You wish,” Eldrin said, smiling sadly. The only person he had to tell his problems to was a daedra who hated him and was literally bound by enchantment to stay and listen. What a sorry mer he was.

 

Then he stopped and stared at Valka in confusion, trying to get a fix on the Mazken's face. It was a bit blurry, and Eldrin couldn't seem to stop himself from swaying slightly where he stood. Valka's black armor was very glossy in the moonlight. He imagined Valka's black hair might shine in a similar way if it had been let out of his helm. Eldrin suddenly felt as though he were in a scene from a play: standing in a deserted street after midnight with a creature from another plane. It didn't seem real.

 

“Ah, it doesn't matter who was spreading it around. Teris has a big mouth on him, he was probably the one. And then Sanvyn would just want to fight Teris. What does it change? The real problem here is that his father sabotaged our mines, not that I, or anyone else, was saying so. And I'm not going to lose. I'm a better fighter than anyone gives me credit for.”

 

Valka looked down at Eldrin, again a prey to mixed feelings. The treacherous thought occurred to him: perhaps they were not as alien to one another as he had at first thought. Both felt bound by something larger. Eldrin did not understand the way of the Isles and the Mazken, as Valka did not understand the way of the Dunmer here in Nirn. Neither was loved. He perhaps had it easier than Eldrin in that regard.

 

_ Easier? I am this mer's slave! Shall I pity a mortal who controls my very life? _

 

_ Yes. Eldrin will only be free from HIS toils when he is ended. _

 

"We will see," Valka said. "You must order me not to interfere, and you must state that order to supersede the previous."

 

Eldrin squinted at Valka.

 

“Supersede the what now? You're going to have to repeat that later,” he finally said, and turned to stagger off toward home. Nothing mattered. Leave tomorrow's problems for tomorrow.

 

“Of course,” Valka said dryly.

 

Inside the manor was dark, and Eldrin had to cast his light spell to stumble down the steps. He muttered under his breath that Tsamabi should have waited up to greet him and keep the lanterns lit.  Valka kept close to the mer going down the stairs, that he might not trip and fall. 

 

“G'night, Valka,” Eldrin said dully. He went past his doorway a step, remembered he wasn't alone, and shut his bedroom door in Valka's face by leaning heavily upon it.  

“Good night,” Valka said to the door.  He wasn't even surprised to be shut outside in the hallway.  As the hours passed, he heard light thumping from inside the room, and then a regular scraping sound that would start and last for thirty minutes or so before stopping for a short while and starting again. 

 

Valka took up station with his back to the wall and listened to the sound of... probably Eldrin drunkenly masturbating, passing out, and waking up to continue? That seemed to go on unconscionably long. Eventually the embarrassing noises died down. Valka stared at the wall opposite, standing at something like attention with spear in hand as the hours ticked gently past. He did not bore easily and he did not get tired of standing. An occasional shift in position was all it took for him to remain comfortable.

 

He had never been drunk. That was a prerogative he could have achieved on his tenth days, if he had been interested, but it had never seemed appealing. Probably he had spent too much of his first duty days in a sewer looking at the result of mortal drunkenness. Besides, he was not immune to poison, but he was resistant; he had overheard other Mazken say that it took a lot of very strong liquor to make any impression. He wondered if Aureals took that opportunity more often. It would be interesting to ask one the next time he fought one. It would also confuse them horribly. That seemed appropriate. Eldrin confused  _ him  _ horribly and he felt an increasing urge to share that sensation with someone.

 

It was close to noon, a distorted oval of daylight falling upon the steps from a window above the front door, when Tsamabi came down the stairs. She froze at the top when she saw Valka below and shrunk back, ears flattened, eyes large and round. Then she inhaled, moved her eyes to the floor, and started down the steps again, more cautiously this time. Her ears quivered slightly as she forced them straight.

 

“She must bring up the rugs from the armory, Muthsera,” Tsamabi said quietly as she came down.

 

Valka raised his head to watch her recoil in obvious fear. Not many of that mortal race could control the movement of their ears.  She was looking away from him. As he had looked away from Eldrin.

 

“I am no Muthsera,” he said softly. “I am Valka, and I too am a servant. I would not harm you without being forced to do so by direct order.” He exhaled once, quietly, not quite a laugh. “The first time I saw you I greeted you as I would an officer. Females are of higher status among my people.”

 

Tsamabi slowed at the bottom of the steps and then paused with her hand on the banister. She knew that he was no Muthsera, but she was frightened of the daedra and hoped that perhaps he would leave her be if she were polite. She lifted her eyes to him, timid but curious.

 

“Ah. She is called Tsamabi. What a strange world he must come from! But it is a strange world he has been thrust into, she is sure.” Her muzzle cracked open very slightly in a smile.

 

At first Valka had made no distinction between the mortals around him, and talking to one this way had been a ridiculous idea; why would he converse with one of these without being forced to do so? But now he smiled back very slightly before he turned his eyes back to the wall in front of him. There was plenty of room for Tsamabi to pass.

 

“Very strange indeed,” he said.

 

Tsamabi dipped her head politely at him and passed, turning to go into the door opposite the back of the stairs. After a few minutes she came back out with a pair of thick, rolled up carpets bowed over each shoulder. They nearly touched the floor in front of and behind her, but not quite. They were not so heavy but she had to move slowly and carefully because they were awkward things to carry, and it took her a moment to maneuver herself into place to start up the steps.

 

Valka watched her pass quietly. He could carry either or both carpet easily. He had not been ordered not to do so.  He was not perfectly certain how far he could move from the ring before it stopped him.

 

Eldrin also could have carried a rug more easily than Tsamabi. He was taller than the Khajiit, and broader in the shoulders. But that would require Eldrin to worry about things like rugs. That was why people had slaves. Someone had to do it, and it was easier to avoid thinking about what you had done to another person's life than it was to deal with the reality of daily labor.

 

_ The Grace of Humility: _

 

_ Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec. I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity, but shall know and give thanks for my place in the greater world. _

 

It must be much easier to give thanks for your place in the world when you had set that place well above many other thinking mortal creatures. Eldrin would have to humble himself to marry someone he could not love; Tsamabi would have to humble herself every day for the rest of her life.

 

_ As I will. Even if I am free of Eldrin there will always be officers and mortals, and you cannot speak to the mad as you speak to Tsamabi. _

 

He thought about that for a while as he waited. If Eldrin did not wake up soon he would have to think about going in to make sure the mer regained consciousness. He needed to be awake in time to hydrate and eat before he thought about fighting.

 

Eldrin awoke unrested with a throbbing, fading pain in his fingertips, vaguely aware of having dreamed horrible things that he couldn't quite remember. His head ached. His throat ached. He raised his hand from the covers to cast his light spell. He had to sit with his eyes screwed shut while his pupils adjusted to the light beyond his lids, then he slowly opened them to squint at his curled fingertips. Something black was caked beneath the nails. It took Eldrin a moment to realize that it was dried blood and that his fingernails on that hand were all split and chipped.

 

“What the... hells..”  _ What did I do last night? _ Eldrin's hand dropped heavily to the coverlet and he closed his eyes again, trying to remember. It all trickled back slowly. He had been challenged by Sanvyn to a duel at four. Eldrin didn't know what time it was, but it felt past noon to him. He groaned and covered his face with his hands. Why now, why today? Why had he let Sanvyn pick the date? If he had more time he could sober up, maybe even spar with Valka to sharpen his skills. Eldrin had been acting cocky last night, but he realized now he was going to lose.

 

Eldrin's clothes had been haphazardly shed the night before. He got up and threw on the pants he had worn beneath the robe and stumbled in a bleary-eyed daze to the armoire to dig out a small leather bag with one shoulder strap. On his way to the door Eldrin noticed that one of his chairs had been knocked on its side, but he didn't think too much about it.  If Eldrin had looked closer he might have seen that a bloody gouge in the shape of a semi-circle had been carved into the seat of it.

 

The door beside Valka finally opened and Eldrin leaned out, squinting at the light. His hair was disheveled, one braid having worked itself loose completely.

 

“Go up to the pantry and get the urn,” Eldrin hissed, thrusting the bag out at Valka. He wasn't merely being stealthy. He was incapable of raising his voice past a whisper. “It's at the bottom of a crate full of yams by the shelf. Bring breakfast. Tea.” Then he barreled past Valka toward the bathroom across the hall, hit the doorjamb, and slid inside.

 

“Yes,” Valka said, accepting the bag as he watched Eldrin stagger past, bounce off a doorpost, and vanish. He supposed that wasn't surprising. He shrugged and went upstairs. He could've carried the rug for Tsamabi after all. He had forgotten how large the radius of the ring's effect actually was, and if he thought back, he had probably pursued another daedra into a ruin further than the entire breadth of Eldrin's manor.

 

He had no idea what a yam was, and Eldrin hadn't told him. On the other hand, he did know what a crate was.  The pantry’s only tall shelf was packed full of freshly purchased cheese wheels, other sacks and boxes having been pushed to the edges of the shelves to make way for them all. In fact, Eldrin or Gilan would have been livid if they had come in to see that Tsamabi had spent the entire weekly grocery funds on cheese wheels, but Valka had no way to know that.

 

The first crate Valka checked was full of knobbly brown roots, and when he held his ear down near it he heard the buried whispering of the urn. He dug a gauntlet in and fished around until his fingers closed around something smooth and hard, then carefully tugged it free and shoved it into the knapsack.

 

What was breakfast, exactly? Yams? An entire cheese wheel? Someone certainly seemed enthusiastic about them. Careful sniffing did locate a jar of tea leaves and he could at least start with that. He took it to what appeared to be a kitchen area and began looking for something resembling a vessel for hot water.

 

On her way back Tsamabi paused in the vestibule, hearing faint noises from the kitchen. She leaned the rugs against the wall and went to check. Master Eldrin was usually up around this time, and he would be very irritable if he'd been forced to get something for himself because Tsamabi had not been around.

 

She leaned inside the room cautiously, ears raising up and shoulders sagging in relief when she saw that that it was only Valka poking around as if lost.

 

“What is he needing?” she asked softly, slipping inside on silent pads. “She will help.” The Khajiit showed him where to find the little three-legged kettle pot in the cupboard and the tinderbox sitting on the mantle of the cooking hearth, and just how many leaves to use for the tea. Then she showed him how to fry a Kwama egg. One would be enough for just Eldrin. They were great big things almost the size of Tsamabi's head, the white shells mottled with yellow and gray bruises and with little bits of dried ichor stuck to the shell. Tsamabi also sent him down with some boiled nix meat, bread, and a little cup of scrib jelly. She arranged it all on a very beautiful platter depicting the same style of illustration Valka had seen on the Temple triolith, this time three such figures battling large beetle-like beasts.

 

Valka followed Tsamabi's instructions carefully, face set in an expression of concentration as he memorized all that he was shown. When she had finished arranging it all he bowed over the platter in his hands, knapsack over one shoulder.

 

“Thank you, Tsamabi. You are very kind.”

 

Eldrin was standing in his room with his hair up in a towel, another tied around his waist, a little puddle of water under his feet. The occasional stray droplet of water seeped from beneath the towel and ran down his smoothly muscled back. The door had been left open. He was holding the back of his chair in his hand and leaning over it, face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and concern. There was a deep gouge in the seat of the chair and traces of what was obviously his own blood.

 

“Valka,” he said with alarm, looking up when he heard footsteps. “What was I doing last night?”

 

 

Valka moved to set the platter on the table and went to look at the chair. It looked as though someone had tried to engrave something into the seat with something very poorly suited to that purpose.

 

Valka looked at Eldrin's hands. He looked back at the chair. He looked back at Eldrin's hands.

 

“You shut me out of the room,” he said. “I heard noises, but I thought you were pleasuring yourself. It went on for perhaps half an hour. I will heal your fingers.” He reached out.

 

Eldrin had washed the blood off in the bath but the skin around and under his cracked nails was still raw. He'd been staring at them in mystification earlier, wondering what he possibly could have done. He'd crawled home on his hands and knees before, but that wouldn't cause this level of damage.

 

Now he looked sharply up at Valka with a serious frown. He didn't pull away from the touch or the spiral of blue that closed around him and sunk into his hands.

 

“That's not what I was doing!” he said indignantly.

 

“Apparently not. Do you normally draw on furniture with your fingernails when you are inebriated?” He didn't remember that happening last time, but he could reasonably have missed it, he supposed. Probably not. Eldrin had been scratching at the chair hard enough to be heard from outside. And this was not the behavior of a sane mer. This was akin to Mania.

 

“No,” Eldrin said quietly, easing the chair back down and moving to sit in the other. He set his elbow on the table, cheek in his hand. “Something is wrong... These constant bad dreams, seeing things... It's almost like... No.” He looked up at Valka, narrowing his eyes. “It's been happening ever since I got you. You belong to the Madgod. Do you drive people mad?”

 

Valka blinked in unfeigned surprise. “Of course not,” he said. “We are the keepers of the mad. Only the Prince himself can confer his blessing. For me to even suggest otherwise would be blasphemy and would be justly punished.” He nudged the plate of food nearer to Eldrin.

 

“His blessing,” Eldrin repeated dryly, then snorted. He caught the tray with one finger and dragged it in front of himself when Valka moved it, then picked up a fork. “Did the mortals you knew in the Isles seem blessed?”

 

Eldrin still felt very tired and out of sorts. He hoped food would help. He used the fork to scoop scrib jelly out of the cup and smear it on his eggs before taking a bite.

 

“I serve in the realm of Dementia. So for the most part they do not,” Valka said. He turned his eyes away. The entire concept of eating was still unpleasant to him. “But they are probably happier than they would be mad and uncared for in Nirn. They will never starve or freeze. They are free to pursue what direction their madness takes them.”

 

Eldrin rolled his eyes. If Sheogorath did not infect them with his curse they would not need to be cared for, but he already knew this kind of discussion with Valka could be nothing but annoying. He absolutely refused to budge from his nonsensical beliefs. Perhaps it was just not possible to reason with a creature who had been set in his ways for four hundred years. Eldrin focused on eating instead, staring tiredly down at the table. How was Valka going to get the urn into Garisa's room without arousing suspicion? He certainly couldn't stroll around the manor unattended.

 

“What will happen if I summon you while you are already in Nirn?” He eventually asked.

 

“I will be moved to your location,” Valka said. “Kerghed often found that convenient.”  He remained placid in the face of Eldrin's annoyance. Reopening the subject of the Seven Graces and, at the very least, Teris's notable deficiencies in them would probably not have pleasant results for him.

 

One corner of Eldrin's mouth lifted in a very slight, very tired smile.

 

“That will make this easier. I have a few potions of invisibility left over... You're going to drink one and follow me into the manor. I don't know if you're familiar with this spell, but it'll end if you should touch anything, so you have to be careful. I think under Garisa's bed will probably be the best place to put it, but you'll have to use your judgement. Some place no one is likely to notice, some place that won't be cleaned often. Hide when you're finished and when the fight is over I'll summon you back to me. How does that sound?”

 

Valka could see one important deficiency in this plan. He regarded Eldrin seriously.

 

“What if you are unconscious and unable to summon me? Who will heal you if I am not there?”

 

“I imagine that half the city is going to be there... Teris will surely come. My friends aren't going to just let me die. In any case, you're worrying too much. It's extremely unlikely I'll be knocked unconscious.” Eldrin spoke without considering that Valka was not at all worried. He was merely responding to Eldrin's question, as he was compelled to do.

 

He was reaching the point of having to force the food down. Eldrin's stomach didn't want it, but he needed every bit of strength he could scrap together.

 

Valka sighed, shoulders shifting silently. He didn't like it. What if someone tried to steal Eldrin's ring while he was beaten and bleeding? The last thing he wanted was to end up with some other Dunmer mortal who was even worse. He definitely wasn't concerned for Eldrin's welfare. That would be ridiculous. Pity was not the same as esteem, he assured himself firmly.

 

The Mazken risked a glance at the plate, squinting slightly. He was eating and didn't seem to be sick from it, at least.

 

“I suppose it would reflect poorly on your cousin to allow you to be killed in his own house,” he said.

 

“Yes,” Eldrin agreed dryly, pushing the plate away from himself. He had eaten all of the eggs and half the nix, leaving the bread untouched. He easily drained the tea, dehydrated as he was.

 

He stood and paced over to the wardrobe to dress, glancing uneasily at the gouged chair as he passed.  _ Is this soul sickness? _ His stomach clenched at the thought. It couldn't be. Thilse Mandran had been soul sick. The Temple conducted extensive interviews with absolutely everyone in her circles - family, friends, even the servants. Favise's older sister had been a friend and that's how Eldrin knew of it. If Eldrin sought help at the Temple, everyone would know about it, including that idiot Sanvyn. He couldn't quite recall what had happened to Thilse - she'd been confined to her home and a priestess came daily to pray with her, but he didn't remember hearing she'd ever gotten better. Eldrin didn't want to be locked away.

 

He wasn't entirely sure that Valka wasn't the cause. Valka couldn't lie, but he could give false information according to his own understanding. That much was obvious as evidenced by his referring to madness as a blessing. Eldrin looked back, squinting suspiciously at the Mazken before he disappeared behind his screen. He would send Valka away at night from now on and see if that improved matters.

 

_ Did Sanvyn mean us to be armored? _ he wondered. It was an informal duel at his home, so probably not... Sanvyn was not the type to prefer armor to begin with. It was not very vampiric. Eldrin rolled his eyes opening the armoire.

 

He must appear as if he'd chosen his clothing for purely utilitarian purposes and not to impress, but he also must not appear poor. 

 

Valka watched Eldrin disappear behind the screen, not missing that wary look. The fact was that he was not completely sure Eldrin  _ wasn't  _ going mad. He had spoken truly. No Mazken or Aureal had the slightest ability to cause madness in a mortal creature except perhaps by the same sort of manipulation a sufficiently clever mortal could perform. He had not even tried to undermine Eldrin's sanity because the mer was already unpredictable and he had not wanted to attract harsher punishment to himself.

 

But it was completely possible that the Madgod had arranged things so that the ring would fall into Eldrin's hands at a time when he was already slipping away from sanity, so that Valka could protect him. If that was the case Eldrin must be more important than anyone knew, but Valka could not imagine how. He did not seem to be an artist or writer. He did not have political or religious power such that he could sway events in a way that favored the god's interests in this plane, and the sudden death of any of his family would not suddenly raise him to such a position. Still, the ways of the Lord and Master were often strange to his servants. Sometimes there was purpose. Sometimes there was none.  _ So let it ever be. _

 

The mer was obviously choosing his clothing carefully.  Valka saw Eldrin tossing items of clothing over the screen, lining them up for comparison.  Valka tried to decide if he would be that cautious in selecting the raiment in which he would be publicly humiliated in front of people that he knew. Possibly Eldrin still thought that would not happen. His capacity for self-delusion seemed significant even if it wasn't bottomless.

 

The silk tunic and trousers that Eldrin ultimately selected were  a very muted, very dignified sandstone red, the only bit of flourish a high and loose collar that exposed his neck in a V. The sleeves were long and loose also, but Eldrin wrapped his forearms and his legs from the calves down in gray silk. It was very practical for a fight. The tunic was long and he secured it to his waist with a thick golden sash tied off at the front, decorated with the names of Almsivi in blocky, black lettering. His flat-soled leather boots curled lightly in the toe.

 

He shed the wet towel on his head to the floor when he moved over to sit at the vanity, sighing tiredly when he met his own dull eyes in the mirror. He did not feel rested at all and his head ached slightly still from the hangover. He felt a sinking dread that Valka would be caught with the urn - he would never, ever live down the humiliation if that should happen - or that he would lose the fight. That would be the lesser of two evils. He could always challenge Sanvyn again, perhaps to a proper duel in the arena, and call him a coward if he refused. His eyes sought Valka's in the mirror.

 

“Valka. Comb my hair,” he said, holding up a kagouti-ivory comb. It had been carved to vaguely resemble the mandibles of a beetle. Eldrin couldn't help smirking lightly to himself despite everything. Sanvyn might be wealthier and he certainly enjoyed many privileges due to his father's status, but did he have an immortal servant birthed in the waters of Oblivion to comb his hair? No.

 

The area by the armoire was a mess of clothing lying haphazardly on the floor and over the screen, the doors still hanging open.


	12. Chapter 12

Eldrin’s belt had religious script on it again, Valka noticed. What a strange way these people had of demonstrating worship of their gods. Well, it wasn't for a daedra to understand.

 

Valka moved to stand behind Eldrin, shedding his gauntlets onto the bed and laying his spear across the end of it. Green-on-black eyes flickered over the Dunmer's face in the mirror. He did not look well. Whatever was happening to him at night, it was not true rest. Valka felt another strange twisty feeling in his gut at that thought, that Eldrin was failing and he did not know why. It was not enchantment. The ring could not bind him to stop something from which he was excluded by its wearer. Still, he felt a sense of shame and disappointment that he had not expected. Something was attacking Eldrin, and Valka was not defending him from it.

 

He ought to be glad, he thought as he took the comb from Eldrin's hand. Hadn't he wished the Dunmer dead many times since that first summons? But he did not wish it now. That was a strange thought. He felt very little repugnance even to being forced to touch the mer's damp hair. As he teased out a knot he cupped the back of Eldrin's head with one palm, then paused as his pulse suddenly jumped.

 

_ Get the bed blankets, wrap him up tightly, start a fire, he's going to freeze to death! _

 

_ No. _ Valka breathed and went on working. Mortals were cold. It was only his imagination that Eldrin seemed colder than he ought. The Mazken's fingers were gentle, careful, and his hands were very warm.

 

“Would you have me braid it?” he asked.

 

The teeth running over his scalp was quite enjoyable with the comb in someone else's hand, for some reason. Eldrin closed his eyes in mild pleasure, but that was the most he allowed himself. He'd never asked Tsamabi to fix his hair. The idea of being touched by betmer fingers repulsed him slightly, and he didn't have the patience to teach her. Now he resisted the impulse to lean into the warm touch at the back of his head, and then Eldrin flushed to realize there'd been any impulse at all.

 

“You know how to braid?” Eldrin asked with mild surprise, eyes cracking open to glance at Valka. Then he sighed. “It had better be pinned back today. Can you do a braided bun?”

 

“Yes, I can do that.” Valka leaned past Eldrin to lay the comb on the vanity, pectorals pressing his shoulder for a second – also cold – then straightened and began to carefully work on gathering his hair into a braid. “Did I not tell you that I have been had by many women?”

 

The brief heat on his back spread through his chest and belly. Eldrin's face darkened. He closed his eyes again, then tensed slightly - was Valka calling him a woman just because he braided his hair? He calmed in the next instant. No, Valka could be passive-aggressive sometimes, but Eldrin didn't think that was his intention now.

 

“Why do you say it like that?” Eldrin asked, one eye opening to watch Valka's face. “That you've been 'had.' Were you not an active participant?” He was curious, but also mildly annoyed by the phrase. He wasn't sure why. It seemed slightly degrading. It seemed like wording a slave would use, but Valka was free in the Isles.

 

“Necessarily, yes,” Valka said. “Some women like to be picked up, carried, whatever they prefer. But that is always by their choice, not mine. It is not impossible to refuse, but there could be consequences. If I am outranked – and a man is always outranked – declining to perform favors for a woman will generally annoy her enough to retaliate somehow. Even if she is not in my chain of command, she can probably find some way to make me regret it.” He shrugged. “I suppose I do not mind. It is still physical pleasure. Usually.” He began to coil the braid around itself carefully. “Each time I found a man who was interested, it was only because I was a kiskella at the time. They were trying to obtain favors of placement by pleasing me.”

 

Eldrin watched Valka's arms move in the mirror. He found himself unhappy despite the pleasantly gentle tug of Valka's manipulations to his hair.

 

The mer Eldrin had fucked in the brothel had been slaves. They did not wear bracers, but he was quite sure of it. He had never really considered what those experiences might have been like from their perspective. They seemed to enjoy it. Probably they enjoyed it less when they were forced to bed someone older and uglier than Eldrin. In either case they would be required to behave as if they did. It was a sharp cut for Eldrin to suddenly realize that he might only be some event another person had been forced to tolerate. Would anyone he'd had sex with remember that fondly, or did they simply “not mind”?

 

_ Stop being stupid. Anganar is always very happy to see you. He even curls up against you afterwards. If he's faking it, who cares? He's a slave. _ That thought made Eldrin even more unhappy. His lips tightened imperceptibly as he watched Valka, imagining him joylessly fucking some Mazken woman - no, he would not appear joyless, he would probably be very eager and agreeable. The heat in his belly was gone and now it was twisting into knots.

 

“Thank you, Valka,” he said when the Mazken had finished. He reached behind to gently touch the bun, turning his head to look at himself from the side in the mirror. He'd done well. Eldrin couldn't have done the same by himself.

 

“Ah, the potions,” Eldrin said, rising and moving across the room to his shelf where three small, blue-frosted glass bottles with rounded bottoms and long stems were sitting. He picked them up by the stems between his fingers, smiling to himself at the memory of the time he, Teris, and some others had used these to sneak into Ulnar Mavron's house to steal all his shoes and carry them onto the roof. He'd also stood watch while Teris stole something from Ulnar's sister's room. That part had been slightly unpleasant, but listening to Ulnar rant about the slaves hiding his shoes had been worth every second. It had becoming a running joke with them for over a year. Eldrin only had to say “my shoes!” in a nasally imitation of Ulnar's voice and Teris would burst into laughter still.

 

“We'd better go,” Eldrin said, holding the potions out for Valka to put in the bag.

 

_ Thank you, Valka.  _ The Mazken stood stunned for a second, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at Eldrin in the mirror. The Dunmer was looking over his new coif.

 

There were things about his time with Kerghed he remembered more clearly than others. It had been a long time now, and even a Mazken did not have flawless recall of every past event. He knew very certainly that Kerghed had never thanked him for his service. Until today, neither had Eldrin. He had neither expected nor wanted it.

 

_ It doesn't mean anything. He has conversed with you long enough that he now begins to use social niceties automatically, as he perhaps does with the lowest ranking of his own class. _

 

"You are welcome, Master Eldrin." His voice was calm. He shook off this paralysis and went to get his gauntlets and spear as Eldrin moved away from the vanity table. By the time Eldrin turned to him with the potions he had the knapsack in hand. He stowed them carefully in a second pocket so that they wouldn't clink against the urn.

 

“Will you care to put an extra cloak inside?” Valka asked him. “So that there will be less sound.”

 

 

“Yes. Hold on.” Eldrin glanced around himself, picked up a short stack of embroidered linen napkins on the shelf and handed those to Valka.

 

He did not feel at all ready, but it was growing late, and the shame of never showing up would be far greater than the shame of losing. Eldrin grabbed a red shawl for himself before going out- it draped down his torso in a triangle, the ends fringed- and ducked into the armory from the hall to retrieve his spear. He hoped he had picked a weapon Sanvyn was not very proficient in.

 

Eldrin winced at the bright sky when he stepped outside and he wished he had brought a hat, although no one else on the street seemed to be bothered. They were obviously enjoying the clear skies.

 

“Uncle Llethri's manor is under-skar,” Eldrin began, quietly, as they walked. 

 

Valka stuffed the napkins in around the urn and donned the knapsack. Again they were under that strange blue sky as they stepped out. He squinted inside his helm as his eyes adjusted. Eldrin was obviously pained by the bright light, probably still slightly hungover. 

 

Eldrin explained what the layout was like inside to the best of his memory, and how to get to Garisa's bedroom, and how to find Garisa's office if that should fail. There would be armed guards patrolling the halls, most likely. As long as Valka did not step close to them he should be perfectly fine.

 

Valka didn't know what “under-skar” meant, but they were approaching a vast domed building that looked, from the outside, somewhat like the shell of a giant creature, the model on which the various stucco dwellings were probably based. He listened to Eldrin, nodding occasionally as he absorbed the information.

 

As he followed Eldrin inside he recognized the walkways, the sound of creaking. This was the place where the shop was, where Eldrin had cut his throat. They were pursuing a path along an upper walkway. There were fewer doors here, dwellings bulging slightly outward from the wall of the greater shell. None seemed to have guards posted outside. They must be immediately within, he supposed, or the bonemold-armored men and women who patrolled around them were meant to prevent incursions into these homes. The ceiling curved away far above.

 

The door at which they stopped seemed exactly like all of the others, set into an outpocketing of the shell that had presumably once housed some circulatory element, some vessel of blood or lymph or the root of a muscle.

 

Sanvyn Llethri had slept somewhat poorly himself, pacing his quarters in seething anger. The servants stayed out of his way as much as possible, wary of an unkind word more than anything else; it was not his custom to beat his father's slaves or his own. At last he did sleep, and slept later than he intended, awakening annoyed at himself that he had nearly committed the sin of which he had accused that idiot Eldrin. After he had breakfasted, he dressed himself again in black silks: close-fitted short tunic, loose leggings, snug wraps about his forearms and shins. His belt bore a passage embroidered from  _ Vampires of Vvardenfell  _ by his own batman, J'saja. J'saja handed him things silently and brought him his spear.

 

The old Khajiit was black as night, and it made his face harder to read even than betmer customarily were, but the set of his ears was not concerned. This would not be the first time Sanvyn had fought a duel in his own house, and he had lost only once. He practiced with many weapons. The dagger was his favorite, for it would be an ideal weapon when he had one day achieved the supernatural speed that he craved, but in the meantime he was comfortable enough with the spear.

 

“Are you ready to heal either of us if the need arises?” he asked J'saja as he stepped out of his rooms. There was a more casual dining area in the center of the manor's bedrooms, the ceiling high but the chairs comfortable. The rugs were very fine, richly patterned in blues and blacks and delicately fringed at the edges.

 

“He is always ready for that,” J'saja said calmly, shutting the door behind them. “Proprieties must be observed.”

 

Sanvyn grinned briefly. He had heard that exact phrase from J'saja many times in the span of their acquaintance. The old Khajiit had been with the family all his life, and he was given some allowances that other slaves were not.

 

“Very well. Let's see if my cousin is in fact joining us or not. I expect we'll be fighting in the vestibule again.”

 

Eldrin paused on the central promenade, a wood-plank walkway that ringed the conical protrusion of shell that joined the ridges along the floor. It dominated the space in the same way Red Mountain dominated the horizon outside. They would have to cross a rope bridge to the balcony of his uncle's manor, and Eldrin could see a doorman there letting someone else inside. He groaned inwardly. The duel had been scheduled very quickly; surely not many people would come?

 

“Now,” he hissed at Valka, while they were hidden from the doorman behind the bony spike. Anyone viewing them from a distance would think Eldrin had simply dismissed his servant. He tried to appear calm as he strode across the bridge with his chin held high when the Mazken disappeared, and paused in front of the door when it was opened for him so that Valka could move in first. He had to resist the impulse to hurry. Valka had plenty of time before the potion wore off.

 

Valka palmed a potion and swallowed it when ordered. He felt only the faintest tingle of magicka spread through him as he put the empty bottle away, but a glance downward showed him no glimpse of his own body, of the knapsack in his hand, only the walkway. It was a bit unnerving. He looked up and ahead as he moved to quietly follow Eldrin toward the manor door. He stepped quickly in front and inside as Eldrin paused to let him pass, the strap of the knapsack brushing the Dunmer's arm.

 

“Muthsera Eldrin Llethri,” the mer in black silks greeted him very politely. He must have been with the family for a while, although Eldrin did not recognize him. His father and uncle had once went through the motions of being on friendly terms and Eldrin remembered playing here often, before Sanvyn became increasingly odder and Eldrin himself became disinterested in sober friends.

 

Inside, the foyer opened up into a massive chamber. It was styled the same as Eldrin's own home but on a larger scale. Round pillars held aloft a multi-domed, gold-tiled ceiling. A potted tree rose from the center, green foliage brushing against the distant roof, paper lanterns depending from the boughs that stretched out in all directions. A straight double staircase beyond that led to the upper level, which was not totally opened. Balconies there overlooked the vestibule on all sides above arched hallways which angled down to the lower levels. These seemed wide enough to admit a pack of guars. There were no potted plants hiding broken tiles here. Everything that Eldrin laid his eyes upon was beautiful and immaculate, from the polished floor that glistened with reflected light to tapestries that spanned nearly from ceiling to floor. Vines dotted with little pink flowers that certainly did not belong to this climate spilled over the edge of fat glazed pots, soft and plumy yellow nirthfly exploding from the centers.

 

Eldrin was chilled, his hand clammy on the spear, but he kept his jaw set and shoulders squared. Valka must be long gone by now. He immediately noticed Teris and several other of his peers lounging on cushions in a corner of the room, speaking animatedly with one another. Rilver was there. Conversation faded as they noticed Eldrin.

 

It was a beautiful place, Valka acknowledged silently as he moved through it. The juxtaposition of living with unliving things was a sort of ordered chaos of its own, a special and unique property of mortal living spaces. He kept well to the right side as he moved up the stairs. He recognized Sanvyn Llethri as the mer paused at the top of the stairs, a black Khajiit standing beside him whose muzzle was gray with age. The betmer lifted his head, whiskers twitching, but then Valka was past them and walking quietly up the broad hall. The rug muffled his footsteps. There were guards here, seemingly wandering without purpose but undoubtedly according to shift and pattern. He gave them plenty of space as he walked past them. There were no Khajiit or Argonian noses to worry about among these. All were Dunmer. All were unaware of him.

 

When he came to a pair of double doors, wood bound with brass, he waited in front of them patiently until a patrolling guard came to open them and pass through. Valka's hand caught the door above his head and the Mazken slipped inside behind him. He moved quickly to his left as the mer looked around, wondering at the sudden heat on his elbows, but Valka held his breath and the guard soon passed on, shaking his helmeted head.

 

Valka paced on, counting doors.

 

\---

 

Sanvyn paused at the top of the stairs, looking down with narrowed eyes. There was Eldrin, just arriving, looking a little pale as he headed toward his friends in the corner. He had half hoped his cousin wouldn't show. That would've proven him a coward and sunk him socially almost forever. That was probably all that had dragged him out here, Sanvyn thought. Shame was a more powerful force than cowardice.

 

Beside him he heard J'saja sniff. He glanced at the Khajiit curiously.

 

“Something wrong?”

 

“No, young Master. One is old and one's mind wanders, yes. Pay no mind.”

 

Sanvyn wasn't sure what to make of that, but he also was unwilling to long distract himself from the task in hand. He went downstairs, spear leaning on his shoulder, and moved toward the others.

 

“I see you've come after all, Eldrin,” he said coldly.

 

Eldrin didn't have time to speak more than a few words of greeting to the others before he heard his cousin behind him, but Teris grinned in a way that Eldrin took to be prideful, and this reassured him. His emotions were all twisted up so that he could scarcely recognize what he felt, arms twitchy from the adrenaline that washed over him in waves. He could have burst into laughter as easily as he could have run off screaming.

 

Eldrin turned and smirked, planting the butt of his spear on the ground. The cocky façade was easier to maintain than he'd expected now that he was here.

 

“Of course I did. I wasn't going to let you off that easily after calling me a coward.” He could hear Teris moving to stand behind him before he felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, the touch electric even through his tunic. Teris squeezed and rocked him.

 

“Come on, Eldrin. Make him regret it.”

 

Sanvyn rolled his eyes. He loathed Teris. The mer was a prig.

 

“You are the challenger, so you may choose whether we fight to first blood only, or until one of us surrenders or can no longer continue. Don't worry, I won't kill someone who shares my own name, however much I may regret that fact.” He gestured to the room behind him. “Unless you object, this is the space that we will use. Generally one considers the seating area and the stairs off-limits for the sake of the bystanders.”

 

\---

 

At the third door on the left Valka paused to listen. A guard paced this hallway, but the breadth of the space was such that he passed several feet away each time he went by. Even here, in this humbler part of the home, the ceilings were high and vaulted. There were more plants in pots here, but they were of more native varieties: potted scathecraw draped about and climbing the ceiling, spiky green leaves ever reaching, and blooming fireflowers that glowed faintly crimson in the dimmer lantern light.

 

He heard no one moving about inside. Valka turned his back to the door to watch the guard, and when the man was many yards away, facing the distant door, Valka opened the knob behind him as slowly as he dared and slid back inside the room. He shut the door with agonizing slowness to avoid making a noise as he turned to look around.

 

It was dark inside, unlit, and he gave his eyes a moment to adjust. Vast red rugs carpeted the space, decorated with gold thread and golden tassels.There was a cushioned seating area off to his left in the fashion that he now began to realize was customary, and in front of him a vast bed that could reasonably contain four people if they were Dunmer-sized. The bedclothes were crimson and white and gold, embroidered with what seemed to be homilies of Almalexia. A faint scent of incense perfumed the air. To the right and in the far corner was a table and chairs in a more Imperial style, and against the wall to his right stood a pair of enormous square wooden wardrobes. Bookshelves lined whatever wall space was not covered by all of this. The paper breathed its own faint scent into the room, musty and dry.

 

Valka moved forward, opening the  knapsack's  upper flap as quietly as he could. There was no one in here with him, and the guard was far enough away that he was probably safe, but that was no reason to be careless. He tugged the urn free – it whispered to him in words he could not understand – and knelt to shove it far under the bed, bumping aside what seemed to be more pillows or possibly sacks of linens. His gauntlet came away dusty. He shook it clean as best he could as he stood up.

 

Now he had only to hide until Eldrin called for him. He would not see the duel. He was not sure whether to be glad or sorry as he went to tug one of the doors of the nearer wardrobe open. The scent of fabric and perfume and cloth smote him, and he was looking at rows of silk and velvet robes. His spear was too tall to easily fit inside. He would have to lean it diagonally if someone came along before he was summoned again. Valka shrugged and stood with his back to the wardrobe's doors, waiting and listening.


	13. Chapter 13

Eldrin considered the options very briefly.  If he were merely cut it would be less of a humiliation when the fight ended.  On the other hand, if such a cut happened very early in the battle that would be its own humiliation and then he would have no chance to retaliate, no hope of turning things around.  He also could not choose the first option without seeming a coward to some eyes.

 

“We will fight to surrender.  That is more interesting, don't you think?” Eldrin said. Teris's hand dropped away as Eldrin moved off toward the center of the room, in the open space before the tree where there weren't any rugs to slip on.  He could feel the throb of his own pulse against the warm steel in his hand.  He could feel every pair of eyes in the room burning into him.  He could not even spare a thought for Valka.

 

"Much," Sanvyn sneered.  He paced to the side without taking his eyes from Teris, turning the spear in his hands.  He was aware of the others watching.  Let them watch, the stupid mewling fetchers.  In his heart burned a loathing for all of it: for the undeserved richness of their garments and his own, for the grins on their faces, for Eldrin and his worthless lying tongue.  One day he would be free of it.  One day their blood would quench his thirst and he would enjoy their pathetic pleas for mercy.  Sanvyn's lips slowly split in a small, nasty smile as he stalked toward Eldrin, and then he lunged forward, spear aimed at his foe's shoulder as he tested his guard.

 

Eldrin dropped the spear to hold in both palms, eyes following Sanvyn as he moved toward the center.  Grim concentration had replaced his smirk.  When Sanvyn lunged he blocked automatically, surprising even himself by how readily his body remembered the technique he'd been taught by his tutors: His right hand flipped from an underhand to an overhand grip as he brought up the spear like a quarterstaff to knock the other shaft to his left, then thrust with his left hand to jab at Sanvyn with the butt of his spear.

 

Sanvyn spun to Eldrin's left, disengaging as he moved away from the jab.  He brought the spearhead around in a short swing, trying to knock Eldrin in the temple with its heavy, flat head.

 

Eldrin stepped right, although not fast enough to move out of the reach of the spear.  The blow to the skull stunned him and he staggered back a step, quickly regained his composure and brought his spear in tight to guard against a second hit.  He backpedaled to put distance between them while continuing to circle to his right, nose and brows crinkling in fury.

 

Sanvyn stalked after him, still grinning.  "Slow, cousin, slow.  That's what happens when you drink with Teris.  Soon you'll be as stupid as he is."  He feinted another lunge but then jerked the shaft down instead, trying for a trip.

 

Eldrin bristled, glaring hatefully at Sanvyn.  He opened his mouth to respond and then the spear was jabbing toward him.  He attempted to block using the exact maneuver as before but the other spear knocked against his boot and Eldrin hopped backward, off-balance, until his back impacted a column.  Eldrin had not realized he'd moved that far off-center while circling Sanvyn.  He was only peripherally aware of the gasps and chuckles that came from the small group of on-lookers.

 

"Useless."

 

Sanvyn drove the butt of the spear at Eldrin's belly as the shaft naturally swung back up, lips twisting from a smile to a sneer.  The spear impacted with a deep, driving pain, as if his organs had split. The agonized mewl that escaped Eldrin's lips was very loud, very undignified. He doubled over and dropped to one knee, spear clattering against the ground as he caught himself with his other palm. Eldrin couldn't see that Teris was cringing back.

 

Sanvyn could have let him be, either asked if he wanted to surrender or let him have a second to collect his dignity and his spear. But that would have been letting his defeat be something less than total. Instead he took a swift step after Eldrin and swung the flat of the spear at the kneeling mer's head.

 

Eldrin couldn't even look up in time to see the blow coming but he yelped when it struck, an explosion of black spots eating away his vision. The arm beneath him gave out and he crumpled to both knees and one elbow, the arm on his belly flying up to protect his head.

 

“Yield!” He gasped.

 

“That's enough! It's over,” Teris snapped at exactly that moment, stepping forward, fists clenched at his sides. Eldrin's eyes screwed shut against the throbbing pain in his skull and belly. He wasn't able to stop the tears that sprung to his eyes, but he wouldn't have to open them. Not yet. His face burned, his entire body quivered with humiliation. He had to call Valka. He could not leave him behind to be found. Blessed Almsivi, Teris had watched that shameful display and now Valka would see it too.

 

Sanvyn stepped back, head whipping around to glare at Teris. “You keep out of it, moron, or you can meet me next. And you won't fare as well as Eldrin. At least he bothers to practice once in a while.”

 

“I call Valka,” Eldrin squeaked from the floor.

 

Sanvyn turned, momentarily distracted by Eldrin speaking. “What did you s -”

 

And suddenly there was an armed and armored Mazken between them, only now letting go of the strap of a knapsack. Valka looked around himself quickly, found Eldrin kneeling and an armed Dunmer in front of him, and leveled the spear without a second thought.

 

“Master Eldrin?” he asked politely.

 

“Heal me, idiot,” Eldrin hissed, quickly wiping at his eyes before rising up on his knees. “The fight is over.” He brought his arms to his sides as he stood, resisting the urge to clutch at his belly. Nothing had been harmed in any permanent way but the intense pain had convinced Eldrin something must have burst. His eyes were red and wet, but no tears had fallen.

 

Teris said nothing more and only glared at Sanvyn. Some of the others who were not Eldrin's friends were whispering to each other, hiding their little smiles and soft laughter behind hands.

 

Valka picked up the knapsack again, shrugged it onto his shoulder, and turned to lay his hand on Eldrin's shoulder, releasing the magicka that always agitated just beneath the surface of his flesh. Blue light flared and sank.

 

Behind him, Sanvyn stood with arms folded, one eyebrow raised. “You think that I would have sent you from my house without healing? You may be no gentleman, Eldrin, but I assure you that is not how things are done here. I would've had J'sara heal you before you left.”

 

The old Khajiit still stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching it all silently and without visible expression. His ears and tail were still.

 

The pain was gone. The black shame gathering deep in the pit of Eldrin’s gut was increasing every second.

 

“I would accept nothing from you,” Eldrin spat. His voice trembled with rage. The knuckles of his clenched fists were nearly white. “Valka, my spear.”  Valka caught up Eldrin's spear and placed it in the same hand as his own, then turned to follow him out.

 

Eldrin knew that he was making things infinitely worse for himself by not accepting his defeat with grace. He'd intended to challenge Sanvyn to a rematch if he lost, but that was unconscionable now. No amount of practice would make him Sanvyn's equal, unless the fight were scheduled months from now, so Eldrin did the only thing that made any sense at all at the time.

 

He fled.

 

He tore his venomous glare from his cousin's eyes and stalked to the exit, his boots a rapid and angry tap on the polished tile, face lifted and eyes held well away from the gaze of any of the others. Teris intercepted him just at the door but Eldrin shoved at him with his arm.

 

“Leave me alone, Teris.”

 

The mer fell wordlessly back. The servant in the foyer already had the door open and waiting as he blew past.

 

 

Sanvyn shrugged, watching him go. He did not look particularly jubilant at his victory. “Go on, get out, all of you. The show's over and I don't keep carrion birds in my house.”

 

Valka paid no further attention to Teris or Sanvyn or any of the others, beyond watching from the corners of his eyes for movement or threat. Soon enough they were outside on the walkway, the air slightly cooler and dustier.

 

“It is done,” he said quietly to Eldrin, when they were well away from the door.

 

He did not bring up the duel. It was obvious that it had gone exactly as he had expected it would. At least Eldrin wasn't dead.

 

Eldrin did not acknowledge the Mazken until they were out of skar and well away from it, moving briskly to put distance between himself and the eyes of all who had witnessed his humiliation. The terrible burning heat never left his face. He was all the things Sanvyn had accused him of, a drunkard, a coward, an idiot, but Eldrin was still his superior. He should not have lost!

 

Eldrin ducked down a side street and swung into an alley, his back and both quivering fists banging against the wall of a shop.  Valka followed doggedly, looking around him to memorize their route. He thought he could draw a path between here and the Manor, if he had to. Perhaps he would never need to know the layout of this city, but it was never a bad thing to know.

 

Eldrin leaned his head back against the stucco, cool in the shade of its neighbor, raising his eyes to the sky. Most of his friends lived in the same district. He did not want any of them to catch up with him as they left.

 

Valka took up station next to the Dunmer, looking up and down the narrow passage. Thorny trama crunched underfoot, running riot in the dim and otherwise empty space. There was a smell of distant, approaching ash, and the sky was lowering overhead, darkening from blue to gray as the clouds blew in.

 

He was sure this was a moment in which he probably should not speak, and if he did it would probably provoke another punishment; so he was surprised to hear himself addressed directly.

 

“Why, Valka?” Eldrin asked of the sky. The creaky quality of his own voice, as if it would break with tears, shamed him deeply. “Why am I such a thrice-damned fool?”

 

Valka turned to regard Eldrin. He had not yet been ordered to answer every question. On the other hand, if he abused the privilege of silence he risked losing it. His brows drew together slightly as he leaned on the coupled spears.

 

“It is because you spend your time with those who are foolish,” he said. “They gratify themselves and care for nothing else. They do not observe the Grace of Courtesy.”

 

Eldrin closed his eyes. The ball of his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

 

“Yes,” Eldrin said hoarsely. “I know.”

 

But he could not blame everything on his friends. No one had forced Eldrin to behave in any particular way. No one had forced Eldrin to accept a duel he could never win. Eldrin breathed heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling against the wall until he had collected himself enough to open his eyes and drop them to search for Valka without moving his head.

 

“You hid the urn. No one saw? No one suspects? Where did you put it?” he asked quietly, without passion. His revenge against Garisa, and Sanvyn by extension, was all he had left with which to console himself. It brought him neither hope nor joy now.

 

Valka exhaled through his nostrils. He felt something uncomfortable and unaccustomed as he looked at Eldrin, a contraction in his chest. To know you should be better and not be able to be must be a great misery. Eldrin had something that Valka felt he had never had: unfulfilled potential.

 

“No one saw,” he said gently. “A Khajiit caught my scent once, but he did not see me and he did not raise the alarm. I put it under the bed. The room was dark and no one was present, so I waited near the closet until you summoned me.”

 

“Well, Valka, at least one of us is not a colossal fuck-up,” Eldrin said, pushing away from the wall. He was not really sure what to do now. He wanted very much to be drunk. He wanted to be laughing carelessly with his friends, but there was no way he would be able to face another mer for a very long time, he felt. There were many things Eldrin might have done to lift his spirits, but at that moment he did not feel capable of anything other than crawling into bed and letting misery consume him.

 

He slipped through the buildings in a direction different from the one they had come, intending to meander through the streets for a while yet. He vehemently did not want to run into anyone he knew in the manor district.

 

Valka kept pace with Eldrin quietly, step by step, just behind his shoulder as he walked. He was aware of an occasional muffled figure watching them, but they took note of the armed Mazken and passed on. A guard passed once, glancing at them unreadably from behind his visor and continuing his patrol.

 

“I'm sorry,” Valka offered eventually, his voice quiet enough that it could easily be ignored if Eldrin were so inclined.

 

The sky was now gray. The first soft fall of ash had begun, drifting gray dust on his pauldrons and on Eldrin's hair; the mer had not yet put his shawl up. The wind had not yet begun to blow hard enough to make the stuff painful.

 

Eldrin made no move to cover himself. The gray skies and the falling ash matched his mood too perfectly. Let it fall.

 

He winced internally when Valka spoke, and then his lips tightened and pulled down. Was Valka mocking him? Valka could not lie. So he meant that? Sudden anger flared within Eldrin, mixed with shame and bitterness. He didn't need the pity of the enslaved.

 

“Give me my spear and the bag,” Eldrin said sharply, turning with his palm out, his face still set in a frown. His tone softened. “I'll dismiss you.”

 

"I cannot stop you from so doing," Valka said, handing him the spear and the knapsack - he could not refuse a direct order. "But I think it would be better if you did not."

 

The frown broke as Eldrin's lips parted, eyes narrowing in genuine confusion.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I think that you should not be alone. I don't mind keeping quiet, but if you are going to wander in the ash storm without your shawl on, someone should be here.”  His tone was firm.

 

Eldrin stared, face unchanging, one hand gripping the strap of the bag as he shouldered it, the other on his spear. He felt a tightness in his chest and a dropping in his gut at the same time, an inexplicable tug of emotion in two directions. Slowly he closed his mouth. He could not understand what Valka was trying to say. Did he think Eldrin would do something self-destructive? Eldrin did not think he was that dramatic.

 

“Ash isn't going to kill me, Valka,” he said carefully, but he pulled the hood of his shawl over his hair. His questioning eyes lingered on Valka's for a moment more until he broke the gaze by turning his head away and resuming his walk, staring at the ground in silent puzzlement.

 

“Not while I'm here, no,” Valka agreed. He looked back steadily, no longer fearful of punishment for speaking that much, at least. He followed Eldrin quietly. He was unable to interpret that final backward glance, but he was suffered to stay. That was enough. He would not be dismissed and come back and find the ring in possession of some distant relative a hundred years hence who had no idea what had happened to Eldrin.

 

 _You don't have to keep quiet,_ Eldrin thought, but didn't know how to make his mouth form the words. In truth he wished that Valka would speak to him of anything at all, anything but his current set of problems. He glanced back at Valka just once, and wondered if Valka was cold and missing the warmth of the sun. Valka's body was very hot. Maybe his plane in Oblivion was tropical and the air here was painful to him. Argonians were rarely used any further North because of this.

 

Eldrin didn't wander. He altered his course to head home directly, without another word.

 

The wind picked up as they drew nearer the Manor.  Valka knew their route as the one he would have chosen himself, recognizing small landmarks: a triolith at the juncture of two streets, a shop with a sign bearing the likeness of one of those fat two-legged lizards – a guar - that probably sold leather goods. Valka raised his arm to try to keep the ash out of his face. Cold and stinging, the wind whined past his helm.

 

This plane was still wretchedly cold, strangely bright, filled with alien things. But he missed the Isles less. That was strange.

 

Eldrin tucked his arms under the shawl and turned his face away from the wind, letting the hood protect the side of his face as they walked through the rising storm.

 

 _I can't go on like this,_ Eldrin thought. _I've become an embarrassment to myself, my family. I can't keep hiding from the things I know I need to do. I've been so cruel to Valka and I don't even know why. I can't be this person anymore._ But he didn't know how he was supposed to fix things. He had an idea that he had to stop drinking, but Eldrin wasn't sure if he could do that. What the hell else was a person supposed to do all the time? How was he supposed to tolerate being Eldrin Llethri if he didn't?

 

His eyes were still trained on the ground as he came into the foyer, standing off to one side to shake ash from his clothes. Tsamabi apparently had heard him come in; he looked up to see her gray ears crest the top of the stairs, and then her expectant face appeared, mouth parted as if ready to speak. Eldrin cut her off.

 

“Tsamabi, I need a tailor. I don't think there is time tonight, but tomorrow morning I'd like you to visit Bivalve Teneran under-skar and see if she will send someone. That day will be fine, if at all possible.” He lifted his shawl, holding it out for her to take. She had come to stand before him, hands clasped in front of herself as she waited patiently for his orders. Now she took the cloth and gave it a final shake before folding it carefully in her hands.

 

“She understands, Master Eldrin. She must also say that Serjo Rothalen has come. He waits below.”

 

Eldrin's entire body seemed to deflate with his heavy sigh. He wanted to change out of these clothes and then burn them in the hearth as soon as possible. He did not want to face Teris. He didn't want to face anyone. He made a shooing gesture at Valka with his hand, indicating he should not follow. He let the weight of his body drop him down every step as he trudged downstairs.

 

His bedroom door was open and Teris was inside, laying across the cushions. One supported most of his back while his crossed legs were draped over another, still in his shoes. He was holding a book over his head and reading it; the one Eldrin had left in the tavern, as a matter of fact, although Eldrin knew that couldn't be the only reason he had come. Teris seemed to be drowning in a sea of white and silver-blue silk, loose sleeves pooled around his shoulders. His fire-red hair burned all the brighter in contrast with his robe. He let his arms and the book drop to his chest when he heard Eldrin enter.

 

The room had been picked up: the dishes on the table were gone, replaced by a cup of tea on a saucer for Teris. The clothes on the floor had all been put away and the armoire had been shut. The bed was tidy enough to bounce a drake off the coverlet.

 

“Hey,” Teris said simply, shifting into an upright position and crossing his legs. Eldrin shut the door behind himself and quietly took a seat at his table, turning the chair to face Teris. One arm settled in his lap, the other across the table.

 

“I know you probably feel like guar dung right about now,” Teris continued, “But you know everyone will have forgotten that whole thing in a week. Sanvyn doesn't even have any friends to tell. You know him. So don't let it get to you, all right?”

 

Eldrin's lips tightened, a sad sort of abortive smile as he found himself warmed from within despite the ball of dread still festering in his gut. He raised his eyes from the floor to meet the other mer's gaze.

 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It's going to take a while for me to get over this one.”

 

“But you _will_ get over it,” Teris insisted, leaning forward with his palms on his knees, face plastered with the same idiotic yet brilliant smile that always made Eldrin's insides turn to warm goop. It made him forget to breathe, made the world drop completely away so that there was only Teris. Eldrin would do any stupid thing to keep that dumb grin on his face. He found himself smiling back just a little. “Come to Cat's Paw with me. We'll get so wasted you won't remember last week let alone today.”

 

His smile faded and Eldrin looked away.

 

“I can't, Teris. I need to fix this mess,” he said quietly.

 

“Aw, come on. We can go somewhere else, if you don't want to run into anyone you know. We can find a real dive that no one's ever even heard of.”

 

“No,” Eldrin said more firmly, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. “Teris... I can't keep on like this.”

 

Teris made a huffing sound and Eldrin glanced up to see him standing, tossing the book down on the cushions. He paced in front of Eldrin and Eldrin raised his chin to meet him eye-to-eye.

 

“I'm twenty-five. You're twenty-three. How much longer can we live like this? We're acting like teenagers, Teris. Half the time we end up fighting someone, breaking something, making complete asses of ourselves. I've wasted my entire life, and now--” Teris was looking at him with a strange expression. Disappointment, disbelief. He knew that Teris didn't want to hear this any more than Eldrin would have from someone else. He sighed. “Iluni Savil accepted my fa-- _My_ marriage proposal. I have to grow up.”

 

“Ah.” Teris said, looking down at Eldrin with gentle concern. He moved to the other side of the table to sit across from Eldrin, leaning forward on his elbows. “...And how do you feel about that? About Iluni, I mean.”

 

Eldrin rolled a shoulder, turning to face Teris but not looking at him yet. He poked at the fruit bowl with one finger, scooting it just slightly.

 

“I'm not ecstatic about it. But I'll be okay. I'm going to make it work.”

 

“Really.”

 

Something about the knowing tone he used made Eldrin glance up, brows furrowing. Teris was staring at him with some unreadable expression, but Eldrin almost thought it was sympathy. Eldrin wanted to wither away and die. His head sunk, shoulders hunching slightly, a scolded dog. _He knows._ Valka had guessed after watching Eldrin once. How could anyone not know? _I am such an idiot._

 

“Iluni likes women. She doesn't want to touch me and I don't want to touch her. It will be convenient for both of us,” Eldrin finally said, once again staring down at his hands. He was aware that his breath had quickened but still he didn't feel that he was getting enough air. “You _can't_ tell anyone I told you that about her.”

 

“I won't,” Teris said firmly. His expression softened and he added, sadly, “I'm sorry, Eldrin.” Eldrin's breath halted and his eyes darted up, even though Teris's face was the last place he wanted to look just now. He must have been several shades darker than usual.

 

“Sorry for what?” he demanded, weak, airless.

 

But Teris was already standing, and he reached out to brush Eldrin's hand on the table with the back of his own. The touch burned and lingered even when Teris withdrew.

 

“I'm just sorry.” The words were softer than any Eldrin had ever heard him speak. “I'll see you around, Eldrin. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

 

Eldrin stared in disbelief as Teris let himself out and closed the door, lips parted, eyes stinging and clouding. He wanted to call out to Teris and make him stop, make him come back and explain, damn it all! What was he sorry for?! But Eldrin already knew. The grief of it was spilling out of his injured heart, filling him up to the brim, pouring from his eyes. Somewhere deep inside Eldrin had believed that every story had a happy ending, that an unrequited love could not really happen to him and that someday he would realize all the friendly little touches were not so friendly after all and Teris had been harboring the exact same secret. With three words his fragile little fantasy had shattered like glass and cut him deeper than any wound he had suffered in all his life. It hurt far worse than his humiliation at Sanvyn's hands.

 

Eldrin was scarcely even aware of himself as he rose and moved to fall face-first upon his own bed, arms curling around a thick silk pillow and crushing his face against it. His shoulders shook as he cried without sound, mouth hidden but open in a pained grimace as if he were screaming. He _wanted_ to scream, but that would only draw Valka and Tsamabi and possibly even his father. Eldrin couldn't even mourn in peace. Then his nose filled up with snot and he was gasping with every voiceless sob and his warm tears became clammy wet spots pressed against his face. Eldrin wanted to die. He wanted to sink right down into the bed and disappear and never have to face another person for the rest of eternity. The pain that rent him was more than a mer could withstand.

 

\---

 

“Good afternoon, Tsamabi,” Valka greeted her politely as he watched Eldrin vanish down the stairs. He had no power to follow when commanded otherwise, but he wanted very much to know the substance of their conversation. “Is there anything I can do for you while I wait? I have better understanding of my radius now, and I believe I can travel the breadth of the house without trouble.”

 

Tsamabi hesitated, one ear turning back. She was not accustomed to offers of help, even from other servants because she had been alone in the Llethri house for several years. She was even less comfortable assigning work to someone else.

 

“Well... she must prepare dinner. He could help with this, perhaps?” Tsamabi put the folded shawl into a storage bench against the wall and went into the kitchen.

 

“Yes,” Valka said, and followed her.

 

She began to show Valka how to prepare scuttle: she had a basket of shiny black beetles the size of Valka's palm, the legs already removed. The shells had to be pulled open and the flesh scraped out into a pot with oil and herbs, and would be left to simmer until it was very soft.

 

Scuttle wasn't so bad, as long as Valka didn't think of what was going to be done with it when he was finished. One could think of it as... alchemy. Some sort of religious ceremony. Extracting the useful reagents from a slain elytra.

 

Tsamabi had barely finished scraping out two beetles when her ears flicked forward at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.  “Someone comes,” she said, hastily dropping the beetle and the knife in her hands to scurry out.  Valka was still trying to concentrate on scraping. He had heard nothing. Her ears must be sharper.

 

She came back less than a minute later, moving unhurriedly.

 

“It was only Serjo Rothalen leaving,” she said.

 

“Oh.” Valka laid down a beetle shell, frowning. “I should probably go and...” _Make sure Eldrin hasn't killed himself._ “See if I am needed.” He went to quickly wash his hands and turned to go quickly to the top of the stairs, gauntlets in one hand, and pulled up short: _Eldrin's peremptory gesture, ordering him not to follow._ Try as he might, he could not go further. He stood there straining fruitlessly against the ring's enchantment, staring down into the dim hallway as he tried to hear any hint of what was happening below.

 

Eldrin's door was shut. He could hear nothing.

 

“Ser Valka was not needed after all?” Tsamabi asked with a hint of wry amusement when he returned, lifting her eyes and ears from her current task, which was peeling ash yams to be sliced up and dropped into a separate pot of broth to become soup. She did not see what a use a daedra could be to anyone in the home, and yet here he was. Valka must be much like the weapons and armor collecting dust downstairs - a trophy. Tsamabi wondered what that must feel like.

 

\---

 

Eldrin never really pulled himself together, but eventually he ran out of tears and turned on his side in a half-curl to quietly stare at the wall with swollen eyes. Occasionally he snorted back snot. Tears had plastered stray hairs to his face. The dampness on his ear was mildly unpleasant but he made no move to switch pillows or wipe the cold moisture away.

 

Every time he thought he was beginning to calm the waves of sorrow, grief, and self-pity rose again and he had to close his eyes until it had passed and he could breath without shuddering.

 

 _I guess I don't have to worry about Teris being a bad influence on me anymore. I'll die of shame if I ever lay eyes on him again._ Eldrin had been wrong; he did have tears. The thought of never seeing Teris anymore made him turn his face to the pillow and cry again. This time he didn't open his eyes when he was finished. He was exhausted, sinking.

 

\---

 

“He bid me not follow,” Valka explained, laying down the gauntlets to return to work. “I cannot approach the room, and the door is shut, so I cannot see what is happening either.” He sighed as he went to resume scraping beetles. Would he know if the ring were worn by a corpse? Would he linger undismissed until someone else took it from Eldrin's finger and chose to send him away? He was surprised at his own morbid musings. Eldrin was probably physically fine, stewing in the grief of certain rejection from someone who could never love him because Teris probably could not love anyone.

 

Still... Until Eldrin realized that fact it surely would hurt him badly.

 

 _And what would you do? Hold him and comfort him? You barely know how, and he would refuse if you offered._ Patting a madwoman's back as she clung to him, weeping over the loss of – he'd never actually been sure what, he thought she'd said something about a bottle of mazte – probably was not the same at all.

 

“Ah,” Tsamabi said. “To be so constrained, it must be annoying, yes? But be happy you have a moment of peace. Tsamabi does not know what she would do if she had to follow Master Eldrin all day.” She had returned her eyes to her task. It took her only a few seconds to peel each yam, rapidly turning the root in her hand with practiced ease.

 

“He must be a difficult mer to serve,” Valka said. “The more so for a mortal creature with more to fear.” His tone was sympathetic, though he might have said those words with a very different intonation when he was new to this plane. “It is sometimes an annoyance, but it is a comparatively brief one.”

 

“Yes,” Tsamabi said slowly. She was not quite sure she understood his meaning. No master would kill their own slave, unless by accident perhaps, but that was exceptionally rare. She presumed Valka could be beaten or abused just as easily as any mortal. She decided not to pursue that topic, and instead filled the silence with more instructions.

 

It took a long time for everything to cook, nearly an hour. In the end Tsamabi had arranged two trays with tea, a bowl of lumpy vegetable soup, and a little plate of scuttle on the side.

 

“The masters do not take their meals together any more,” the Khajiit explained. “Master Eldrin is never out of his room when he is home, and Master Llethri will be in his office. Thank you, Ser Valka. Daedra is a very good student.” She smiled kindly at him before picking the trays up in both arms, pushing the door open with her back to let herself out. She did not look to be in any danger of dropping them.

 

“Thank you for letting me share your time,” Valka said. He watched the Khajiit go regretfully. Mortal company had so far not been a restful experience for him, but quietly working in the kitchen was very calming. He washed up what had not been done yet – Tsamabi was very tidy, cleaning most things as she went – and stood by the kitchen fireplace with his two gauntlets in one hand, tapping them idly against his thigh. Tsamabi gained nothing by being kind to him, but she had still done so, sharing that precious space of solitude with a stranger and an alien.

 

One did not wish the Madgod's blessing on another. It seemed strange to ask the blessing of gods that he did not worship. Ah, well. Perhaps Tsamabi did. _I imagine Almsivi do not hear the voice of a daedra, but if they do, I hope for a small blessing for a very kind Khajiit._

 


	14. Chapter 14

Tsamabi brought dinner to Gilan first, who was busy reading at his desk and acknowledged her with only a grunt, and then carried the second tray downstairs. There was no response to her knock. That was a little odd. It was far too early for Eldrin to be asleep, and he had not been drinking. She was debating what she should do when he called out roughly, “What?”

 

“Your dinner, Master Eldrin.”

 

“Fine. Bring it.”

 

Eldrin realized he had fallen asleep, but it had been a light sleep and the knock had roused him. He rubbed at his eyes with his palm without turning to look at the Khajiit. He heard her setting down a tray on his table and picking up the teacup, but he did not hear the door shut again. She was still standing in the room, hesitating.

 

“Serjo, Valka cannot come downstairs because he has been ordered not to.”

 

“Yes. FINE.” Eldrin waved her away and Tsamabi rapidly ducked out, needing no further warning than his irritable tone, even if he did only throw things at her when he was drunk. After hearing the door click shut he finally rose to sluggishly clean his face in the wash basin, checking himself in the mirror when he was done. His eyes could never get any redder and the puffiness in his lids had gone down as he slept, but Eldrin thought he looked utterly dead inside.

 

“I call Valka,” he said without emotion, pacing back toward to table to see what Tsamabi had brought.

 

The Khajiit would be very confused when she returned upstairs to find the Mazken had vanished.

 

Valka lifted his head as he felt the summons grip him, reaching quickly for his spear, and then he was... in Eldrin's room again. This place served as a sort of anchor for his time here. It was becoming very familiar. Now he looked around to find the bed disarranged, food on the table, and Eldrin... Valka's brows knit. Eldrin looked awful. He laid his gauntlets on the bed as he came to stand silently behind Eldrin's chair. It creaked faintly as he laid one hand on the back.

 

“Do you want to discuss it?”

 

Eldrin might have been wary of Valka moving so close to him of his own volition if he had the energy to really care about anything happening around him.

 

“What?” he said blandly, turning his face aside to look at Valka from the corner of his eye. The question struck him as absurd. “No. I figured I would get you out of Tsamabi's hair. She's so damned nervous, I can't imagine the fit she must have been having with you hanging around.” He turned back to the tray of food, sunk a spoon into the soup, and realized he wasn't actually hungry at all. He dropped it and sat back, staring down at it tiredly. Then he shifted forward again, dropping his forehead into his palm. His head ached from crying. And probably sleep deprivation as well.

 

Valka shrugged, then remembered Eldrin couldn't see him. He tried out a couple of responses internally, one of which was  _ she is less afraid of me than she is of you,  _ but that seemed likely to make Eldrin feel worse, not better.

 

“That is a kind thought,” he finally said. He tilted his head for a moment, looking down at Eldrin. “You are tired. Would you like me to comb your hair after you have eaten, before you sleep?”

 

Eldrin's chest constricted briefly. He turned around fully in his chair this time, one hand on the corner of the back. He could feel heat radiating from Valka's arm even without actually touching him. Eldrin frowned tiredly up at the Mazken, confused but too mentally exhausted to sort this out on his own.

 

“Valka, why are you acting this way?” he asked softly. “Two days ago you couldn't wait to be away from me and now you're insisting you stay to walk me home through the ash.” His eyes dropped from Valka's. “I don't understand you.” It was some ploy to gain his trust. Valka had found a way to manipulate him that wasn't technically lying. And Eldrin deserved that. His heart grew heavy with sorrow again.

 

“When you summoned me first, I did not think of you as like myself,” Valka said. “Or any other mortal. I was wrong. All of the things I said to you were things that I meant at the time.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “I still find the concept of eating repulsive. And you were wrong on an important point. That you threatened me with darkness was much worse than when you killed me. But even that I now understand – you did it because you did not want to resort to lethal violence again. Because you loathed yourself that you did so.” He spoke quietly, in a calm voice, without much variation in tone.

 

“I have seen you fail to live up to your Seven Graces, Eldrin Llethri. But I see you still trying. You are strange and contradictory, but I see that you try and I see that you suffer for it – more than Teris Rothelan, who does not try at all. More than Sanvyn Llethri, who strives in the wrong direction. I respect that struggle. And I'm sorry you are suffering. I would help your pain if I could.”

 

Eldrin felt his face contort in a strange way as he searched Valka's eyes, one side of his upper lip raising while the rest of his mouth pressed firmly together, brows arching and drawing together.

 

“I--” The words caught in his throat. Eldrin swallowed, fingers tightening on the chair. That was a lot to process. Valka saw into him so plainly, and yet Valka saw more depth than Eldrin actually possessed. Eldrin didn't try to be better, even though he claimed it. His lips twitched and finally his expression smoothed out to one of wry amusement.

 

“Is that why you're hiding behind me? You can sit if you want. I don't think I'm going to eat anything.” Eldrin didn't even stop to consider that he was offering a seat at his table to a servant. A  _ daedra _ . The smile dropped away and Eldrin clasped his hands on his lap, looking down.

 

“The way I've treated you is inexcusable,” he said quietly. There was so much more to say. He could explain that he'd thought Valka a thing, an animal. He could try to explain that he didn't think he knew right from wrong anymore and that was a frightening thing to face. Those excuses seemed so inadequate.

 

It was hard to look at Eldrin’s face. To see one of the Demented suffer was to see something that was perhaps real, but might be without basis; Eldrin's hurts were well-founded. Valka pulled a chair around and sat facing him, resting one arm on the tabletop as he regarded the Dunmer soberly.

 

“I was standing behind you because I would like to hold you, to comfort you, but I didn't think you would allow it,” he said bluntly. The green-on-black eyes did not look away from Eldrin's. “Perhaps it would not help in any case. I still don't know. But perhaps it will give you a little comfort to know that Kerghed would never have said those words to me. He was without the Grace of Mercy.”

 

Eldrin felt as though he'd been hit hard enough to knock all the air from his lungs and he looked it, jaw falling slack and eyes widening. A deep purple-blue darkened his cheeks. Barbed emotions ripped at him from within. Indignation:  _ Don't touch me, Mazken! _ Confusion:  _ Why do I react that way? _ Self loathing:  _ He offers me comfort, and this is my first thought? _ Longing:  _ It hurts so bad. Please, hold me. _

 

_ He is daedra. _

 

_ He is  _ **_like you_ ** _. He feels and thinks! _

 

_ He is less. _

 

**_You_ ** _ are less! You aren't worth anything to anyone! Why does he deserve to be your slave? _

 

Eldrin covered his eyes with his hand. Everything hurt. His head, his heart.  _ Too much pressure! Too much! _

 

“No, Valka,” he croaked, shaking his head. “It's not appropriate.”

 

 

Valka watched Eldrin darken. For a second he felt a jump in his own pulse:  _ Too far. There will be punishment.  _ The purple-gray skin grew darker in turn. But he watched Eldrin regardless, listened to the strain in his voice. It was not anger that had won out. Valka exhaled slowly as he looked at the Dunmer.  _ What is this that I feel now? _ He ached to see Eldrin so obviously hurting.  _ What can I do that will help? _

 

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "To cause you pain was furthest from my mind. I am your servant. At least it is still appropriate for me to deal with your hair, yes? It will be easier for me than for you, with it pinned up." He looked at the wall. "And - perhaps you will grant me one request. As your obedient summoned."

 

Eldrin could feel Valka's eyes on him still. He wished to curl up and die just to get away from that gaze. Perhaps Valka did not know the guilt and confusion he was causing Eldrin. It was guilt, Eldrin finally realized. He did not want to keep a sentient being for a toy, and yet here was Valka offering to brush out his hair as if that were okay.

 

“What is it?” Eldrin asked, nearly inaudible. He dropped his hand into his lap but did not lift his eyes to Valka.

 

Valka was unaware that Eldrin felt guilt because he was unaware Eldrin was capable of it with regard to himself. He had known that talk of Kerghed's experiments distressed his mortal master. He had assumed at the time that the violence was what disturbed him, that he was ashamed that his distant relation had acted against the Words of the Three in regard to his experiments.

 

_ I want you to obey me because you want to, not only because I've ordered you. _

 

They would never be equals in Eldrin's mind. It was a fact that Valka would have to accept. And that was a bitter pill when he had come the long journey toward recognizing that sane mortals were not the same as the mad, that they had thoughts and emotions that were worth hearing, that they were capable of feeling and insight. But the idea that life was or should be fair formed no part of what he had been taught throughout his incarnations. His time with Eldrin would be brief enough, in the scheme of a long eternity. For that length of time he could bear the bitter with the sweet.

 

“Let me stay here tonight,” Valka said.  “I understand that you will wish to be alone.  I will wait outside the room, but give me leave to enter if I should hear noise I cannot interpret.  I would not have you harm your hand again, and perhaps we can learn why you did it the first time.”

 

Eldrin's hands clenched into fists on his lap. He'd been expecting a request of a personal nature:  _ Let me return home every tenth day. Do not order me to hurt others. Do not force me to accept your gods as my own. _ Instead he was asking permission to help Eldrin. Again. The guilt was crushing.

 

“What's wrong with you, Valka?” Eldrin asked miserably. He could feel a cold rage mounting. Finally he did lift his eyes and the ire smoldering there was dull and it was only for himself. He did not raise his voice, but it was harsh. “Are you so accustomed to abuse that having your throat slit means nothing? That you'll let someone yank your leash and tell you to dance and just accept it?” He tugged the ring from his finger hard enough that it hurt his knuckle and slapped it to the table before standing abruptly. He turned toward his bed while unrolling the wraps from his arm with fast, angry movements.

 

“Go,” Eldrin snapped coldly. He could feel moisture in his eyes again. “You're free of me. You're dismissed to the Isles forever.”

 

Valka stood as Eldrin did, turning to watch him, frowning in confusion. He'd muffed it somehow. An angry answer provoked punishment. A sympathetic one seemed to increase Eldrin's distress. What was he doing wrong? What in the world did Eldrin want or expect? His eyes widened in genuine distress as he watched Eldrin walk away from him. His voice was taut, desperate.

 

“What? No, don't, I - ”

 

No dismissal gripped him. Valka turned to look at the ring on the table, eyes wide.

 

_ I am not bound to obey when the ring is held by no living hand, guided by no will. _

 

Eldrin heard a small, breathless laugh. Valka went to lean on the table, weight on his hands, staring down at the spiny black thing. He could read his name inside the band.  _ I call Valka. _

 

“I could do anything at all to you,” he said softly. “I could break you with my hands and you would have no time to cry out. By the time anyone knew it would be much too late. On the day you summoned me I would not even have hesitated for a second. Poor Tsamabi, to be burdened with such a discovery! Would she be sold, or would your father keep her on?” 

 

Eldrin whirled at the sound of Valka's voice and he immediately realized his error. He had given Valka true freedom without dismissing him. Eldrin's eyes darted to his spear against the wall. Too far to dive for, and it would never save him in any case. 

 

Valka straightened slowly, turning to look at Eldrin. “Or yes. I could simply depart as you bid me. But I do not choose to do so, Eldrin Llethri. It is a pity that I can only make you hear the truth when you have given me the capacity to lie.” Slowly he folded his arms.

 

Eldrin stepped back instinctively, eyes as round as a full Masser falling back on Valka as he continued his speech. The meaning of the words slowly sunk in past the terror that wrapped his brain in a fog, past the thunder in his ears. The back of his knee hit the bed and Eldrin twitched before stopping, fists trembling at his sides. Gray silk hung from his left arm.

 

“You- you aren't going to kill me,” Eldrin said, inhaling sharply. His shoulders visibly rose and fell with his agitated breath. He heart was still hammering from the burst of adrenaline even though Eldrin understood he was safe. He did believe Valka. What he didn't understand was why.

 

“No,” Valka said. “Breathe, calm yourself. Did you hear anything I said?” He raised an arresting hand slowly, then lowered it to his side.  _ He still doesn't see it clearly. Perhaps he never can. _

 

“Once I saw you as an insect, and I would have crushed you accordingly. Now I understand that you think, that you feel, that you have some awareness of yourself, and the brevity of your life grieves me. I would do nothing to make it briefer.” He smiled very slightly, one side of his dark mouth. “You and I have understood each other very little from the first, Eldrin.”

 

Not  _ master.  _ Not  _ Eldrin Llethri. I speak as I choose.  _ He began to feel almost giddy as the breadth of his new freedom burst upon him like the breaking dawn.

 

“And as to the question that you asked in anger – no.  _ We feel pain, and fear it _ . But it means less to me than it does to you, and I do not fear it as much as I did when I was first incarnate. My first master did that to me. Perhaps I am better for it.” He shrugged. “Perhaps worse. But you have hurt me more with your words than with your hands. That is a truth.”

 

Eldrin did calm, fists slowly uncurling. He still stood rigidly in front of his bed, but without terror.

 

“We understand each other very little, and yet our thoughts about the other have been strikingly similar,” Eldrin said, mirroring Valka's slight smile. The rest of his muscles began to relax, following his face. He looked aside at the wall then, raising his hands in a helpless gesture. One hand dropped to his shoulder to tug at his hair but found nothing there to grab and so he let it fall.

 

“I am sorry, Valka,” Eldrin said softly. “What I did to you in the tomb, I was wrong. I knew it-” His voice began to waiver and so he stopped.  _ I knew it the moment I saw you flinch away from me.  _ Eldrin was shocked to realize he did not feel diminished in the way he had expected. He felt very stupid and worthless and the guilt was overwhelming but to apologize to someone who had been under his command did not humiliate him any worse than his actual wrongdoing had. It was a relief to have finally said it.

 

_ I am sorry, Valka. _

 

This indeed was a day of wonders. The world suddenly seemed much lighter. Valka's posture grew straighter and yet somehow less tense, shoulders sinking as his spine straightened.

 

“You do yourself great credit,” Valka said. He considered Eldrin's words, his voice, looked at his face. “This – all this misery that you feel in my presence – was this guilt? For how long?”

 

 

“Ha.” Eldrin smiled wryly. He seemed to suddenly realize the thing touching his legs was his own bed. He sat down rather than awkwardly stand, clasped hands between his thighs, ankles crossed and stretched out in front of himself. “I am pretty much always miserable, Valka, and I am pretty much always feeling guilt over something, but...” He looked contemplative, eyes distant, and continued more softly. “Yes. After I stabbed you I began to question myself.”

 

“I see. By this is much explained.” Valka went over to retrieve his gauntlets, carefully reaching to remove the spear from behind Eldrin from the other side of the mattress. He looked long at the ring again, standing there beside the corner of the bed. If he were the wearer of it, Eldrin would not be able to suddenly change his mind again. But if he were to do that he would also be unable to summon himself back here other than trying to navigate the Void. No one would voluntarily choose that method of travel if another were offered.

 

_ Not even if it meant risking a return to servitude? _

 

That decision was harder. He felt pity for Eldrin, even sympathy. He wished better things for him, that his mortal life might not be so dreadful. But even now he would not choose generations of merish life in service to a series of masters who might be kind, or might be cruel, or might be worse than Eldrin  _ or  _ Kerghed.

 

_ Eldrin is emotional, careless. He will take the ring off again at some point, at some moment. If he does not deal with me kindly there will be another opportunity to free myself. I can be patient. And if that happens I will know certainly that my time has been wasted and it is not worth my struggle, and I will choose my time and return to the Isles forever. _

 

Valka went to pick up the ring and bring it back to offer to Eldrin.

 

“Don't let anyone else have this, please,” he said. “I am tempted to take it, but then I would not be able to easily return here. The way through the Void is long, and there is no Prince in Tamriel to guide a daedra home with the power of their voice.”

 

 

Eldrin held out his palm, scanning Valka's eyes with unspoken question. His fingers closed around the ring when Valka dropped it and he lowered his hand to his lap. The thing seemed heavier than it ought. The spines pressed against the inside of his hand.

 

Eldrin's war had not ended. Something within him had not let go of the idea that a daedra was not a person, and now that the moment of passion had ended he felt some measure of regret that he had lost something very fine-- but at the same time, a new emotion overwhelmed him, dwarfing the others. He had gained something else. Valka was showing him kindness for no discernible reason. Valka was not an equal socially, a friend chosen by circumstances of birth and wealth. He was not bound by any more of mortal society at all. And now he was placing his freedom, his life in the hands of a mer who had done absolutely nothing to prove himself trustworthy. It made Eldrin's heart ache in a new way.

 

“If anyone realizes you are free, you'll be killed and I'll be punished for loosing a daedra. The ring would most certainly be confiscated,” Eldrin said slowly. He was unaware of the sadness in his own voice or that he was again looking at Valka as if trying to work out some puzzle.

 

“How severe a punishment would this be for someone in your position?” Valka asked. Punishment in his mind carried with it the idea of unpleasantness, but ultimately something temporary. With endless time almost all things could be faced.

 

Confiscation was more serious. If he fell into the hands of an organization rather than an individual or family he might never see the same person twice, and opportunities to alter the situation would be much less.

 

They were nearing the point where conversation would become less useful. Eldrin had mortal needs, and he had had the sort of day that would strain them. He had not eaten since breakfast, and he surely must be exhausted physically as well as personally. Standing quietly beside a tree for a couple of hours would not mend him. Valka glanced at the table. For some reason it stuck in his mind that Tsamabi had spent an hour working on something that no one would appreciate.

 

Eldrin shrugged tiredly and rose, walking to the vanity to pick up a pendant lying twisted among the various bottles.

 

“A fine. If I couldn't pay it, which is likely, I'd be jailed for a while.” He untied the suede cord to thread the ring through, and when he held the cord up to tie it again the ring slid down to join the amulet. It was a thick slab of laguna lace agate shaped like a flattened inverted triangle and set in a gold backing. It would hang below the collar of most clothing, and the large amulet would hide the ring at first glance. Eldrin left it laying on the vanity for now. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he turned back to Valka- head fuzzy with hair that had worked itself free when he'd been laying, eyes sunken and face otherwise droopy. He disliked for Valka to see him like that.

 

“I suppose that's a slap on the wrist compared to what you're used to,” Eldrin said, lip twitching in a hint of tired, unamused smile.

 

He watched Eldrin, noting both the appearance of the amulet and where he had laid it.

“Contextually it probably is not,” Valka said. He walked over to the table and pulled a chair out. “Being jailed would have consequences that could affect you for as long as you live. Being killed in the Isles could lose me rank, but rank can be regained. It would not be social ruin. Please try to eat something? I'm concerned that you are not fulfilling the needs of your mortal body, and Tsamabi worked for an hour to make this.”

 

 

Eldrin looked at Valka without expression for a moment, not sure how to feel about their changing relationship. But Valka was only expressing his concern, and not in an obnoxious or controlling way. Eldrin decided that he didn't mind it.

 

“Yes, mother,” he said dryly, and came to sit. Only when the scuttle touched his tongue did he realize that it was good and that he actually was hungry. It had grown a little cold, but it was acceptable.

 

“We are not as frail as you think we are,” Eldrin said between bites. “I could go days without eating or drinking or sleeping and I would live, even if it made me sick.”

 

_ Mother.  _ Valka searched his memory for the meaning of the word for a second, then actually grinned. Mazken were not born and did not have parents or children. Eldrin had apparently been without a female progenitor for a long time. The thought of Valka in that role amused him greatly. He still averted his eyes from the sight of Eldrin eating, busying himself attempting to sharpen his spear with a surface of his gauntlet.

 

“The rule we were told is three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food,” Valka said. “The first one applies to us as well, of course. But it would be better if you were not sick.”

 

“Three  _ weeks _ ? Perhaps I could survive that many weeks without eating, but I think I'd be close to comatose after only one.” It suddenly struck Eldrin just how fragile he actually was compared to Valka. Why wouldn't Valka view him as inferior? He was about as weak and as short-lived as a shalk in comparison. It was an uncomfortable thing to acknowledge.

 

Eldrin's fingers tightened around the spoon in his hand and he dropped his eyes to the bowl. He realized in a detached sort of way how bizarre it was to be sitting here eating dinner while chatting with a free daedra, and yet Eldrin felt more as though he were talking to one of his friends. Could life really continue this way? What was Valka planning to do? Maybe he would leave tomorrow, after ensuring Eldrin made it through the night without any strange incidents... Eldrin frowned at his half-finished soup and then sat back, pushing the tray away from himself. He'd eaten all of the scuttle, at least. Valka shouldn't harp on him for that.

 

“There are whetstones in the room behind the stairs,” He said, crossing his arms and eyeing Valka seriously. “Valka... What are you going to do from now on?” Eldrin found himself dreading the answer.

 

At least he'd eaten something. Valka glanced at the half-empty bowl and away again. “Thank you. I'll get one.” He paused in the doorway, turning to look back at Eldrin at that second question. Did Eldrin wish him gone? He had ardently seemed to a couple of minutes ago.

 

“From now on is a long time. You are only going to live what, another hundred and fifty years? Let's start with that. I will stay here and I will obey you in public so that you are not fined or jailed. When you wish me to go, I will go, and you may resummon me again with the ring. There is nothing awaiting me in the Isles that cannot wait. I believe you said something like it yourself once.” He vanished out into the hallway to go and look behind the stairs for the little alcove room with the angled door. It did indeed contain whetstones on a shelf and a litter of other objects, some of whose purpose he did not understand. There were repair hammers and bottles and jars and also a couple of shortswords shaped for a smaller hand, and a matching buckler of steel. He took one stone and went back to Eldrin's room.

 

_ You are only going to live what, another hundred and fifty years? _

 

_ Ouch, Valka. _

 

The statement stung just a little, but Eldrin was too emotionally exhausted for that to register on his face. He stood and moved toward the screen to continue removing his clothes. He piled all of them on top of the armoire where Tsamabi could not reach, so that she would not put them away. He really did intend to burn every last one of those things tomorrow. He'd never be able to look at those clothes again, let alone wear them. He had changed into a pair of patternless green silk pants to sleep in and house slippers when Valka returned, and his fingers were already prying apart the coiled braid as he sat down at the vanity.

 

_ So now I have an unpaid servant who is not a slave, _ Eldrin thought. Very little had changed. He couldn't see Valka agreeing to pelt people with corks but that was fine because Eldrin was going to fix his life. Right?  _ Right _ , Eldrin told himself despite the sinking dread in his belly. This had not been the first time he had resolved to quit acting wild, but his plans never did pan out and he would fall back into bad habits within the week. Perhaps Valka would tire of him eventually, as Eldrin's own father seemed to tire of him.

 

Valka seated himself in the second chair, glancing up at Eldrin, and began to carefully sharpen the spear. He had offered once. It probably would not be appreciated to offer again. Eldrin no longer had the capacity to punish him – ha! Free! - but it would be kinder to step lightly. He didn't want Eldrin to hate having him here, either.

 

“You do agree to having me wait outside?” he said presently.

 

Eldrin combed through his hair with his fingers to pull the braid apart and then picked up his brush from the vanity top, glancing at the ring tied to the amulet still laying there. What must it feel like to be so utterly powerless? Once Eldrin had gloated to himself over that. Now it sickened him and he had to turn his eyes away both from the ring and from Valka in the mirror as he brushed out his hair.

 

“Yes,” he said quietly without looking up. “I don't want you to go. I was-- It's been a difficult day. I was upset.”

 

“Of course,” Valka said gently. “It has been brutal.” He watched Eldrin for a moment. The Dunmer was avoiding looking at him again. More guilt. His poor mortal body would be so cold, and held tightly he would be warmer and he would know someone felt something for him besides disdain and disappointment and perhaps he would rest quietly at last.

 

_ It would not be appropriate,  _ he had said _. _

 

Valka sighed silently and got up. “I will be outside,” he said, and went to stand outside the door with spear and whetstone.

 

Eldrin glanced sadly up in time to see Valka's back as he retreated from the room. Eldrin didn't want to be alone. He almost opened his mouth to say  _ Please stay just a little longer, _ but he was already acting enough of an emotional fool.

 

“Good night,” he said softly instead. He stared regretfully down at his own hand for several seconds before lifting it heavily to resume brushing. When he was done he sighed and stepped out of his slippers to crawl into a bed once again too large and too empty and cold. He shut his eyes against the sensation of tears starting  _ again _ . If he stopped to think about it Eldrin would be able to acknowledge that the pain would not last forever and neither would his feelings for Teris, but in that moment Eldrin felt completely hopeless and unlovable.  _ You only have to tolerate this loneliness for what, another hundred and fifty years? _ Eldrin thought dejectedly, repeating Valka's own words, and then a horrible thought occurred to him.

 

_ Is Valka lonely? He has been by himself for hundreds of years and has nothing to look forward to for the rest of his immortal life. He basically admitted as much himself just now. _ Was that the reason Valka wanted to stay? Was a cruel mortal master the closest thing to a friend Valka had in his life? This thought was not Eldrin's usual self-pity but it was just as deep a cut.

 

Eldrin pulled the covers up to his nose and let tears leak down his face as he cried both for Valka and for himself. Eldrin doubted that he could ever really be a friend to a Mazken... he was frail and temporary and they thought too differently about everything. But Eldrin would try. He sniffled back snot as quietly as he could - Valka must be listening hawkishly for any unusual sounds. Eldrin thought that he would never sleep as upset as he was but it happened without him even knowing it, after all the lights but his bedside candle had burned out.

 

It was quiet within the room for a long time. Valka heard a bit of shuffling from upstairs as Tsamabi finished a few more chores before turning in herself.


	15. Chapter 15

Eldrin found himself again in the dark, a soft red glow faintly pulsing beyond black and unidentifiable silhouettes looming all around him. He remembered that he had come to this place several times. The air was warm and thick in a way that penetrated to his brain. At first he was apprehensive of the dark, but the softly whispering voices caressed his mind and wrapped him in a comfortable fog. He still could not understand the layered words as tangled up as they were, but Eldrin was beginning to realize that one particular voice stood out the most from all the rest. It was a masculine voice, rich and resonant and so very welcoming. Eldrin distantly felt the covers slide off from his body, although he was mostly aware only of the warmth of the space he was in. The floor beneath his feet was a muted sensation; in the dream he may as well have been floating. He bumped into his side table but the brief pain was not something to pay mind.

 

_ Listen listen listen well my kin brother listen brother of the Tribe the Tribe Unmourned listen kin-- _ The voices grew clearer and louder and the comforting warmth grew along with them as he moved. Eldrin was gripped by a sudden longing, a need to hear those words. They were trying to tell him something important. He followed the whispers, stopping to listen now and then- they ebbed and flowed like the tides, and after moving it took a moment of listening to tell if they had really increased or not.

 

He was sure he had found the source when an image suddenly bloomed in his mind's eye, the livid red lines forming a round beetle that Eldrin instantly recognized as the sigil of House Dagoth. Here in the dream it was a thing of pure beauty and bliss shuddered through him as he gazed upon it. Something hard thumped at his knees and Eldrin was kneeling, and his hands were reaching out and they touched whicker as he pulled a basket from the bottom of his shelf. He knocked over a fat white bottle of sujamma as he did so and sent it rolling across the floor. He was only vaguely aware of these things. Mostly he could hear only the voices, feel only warmth, see only the red lines scrawling themselves across his mind.  _ \--My brother my kin listen listen you will serve you will listen brother of the Tribe Unmourned-- _

 

It didn't take Valka tremendously long to finish sharpening the spear. Valka put the whetstone away as quietly as he could and returned to stand guard outside Eldrin's room, listening closely this time. Comfortable silence settled in around him, and for a while he hoped that Eldrin really was sleeping deeply, getting the rest that he badly needed.

 

The rest of the house had gone quiet by the time he heard a bump. Valka frowned, turning to lay the side of his helm against the door. There was a shuffling rustle and then a much louder roll and slosh, the sound of a filled vessel rolling. He supposed it was possible Eldrin was only having a drink and had clumsily dropped the bottle. Possibly. Valka shrugged and very softly reached for the doorknob to open it, slipping inside the room before too much light from the hall could get in.

 

Eldrin did not notice any sound or light from the doorway. He was on his knees by his shelf when Valka entered, tossing aside a cloth from a basket wedged between his knees and then lifting a heavy gray brick with both hands. His eyes were open but unseeing.

 

_ \--OBEY MY KIN YOU ARE A BROTHER HEAR MY VOICE OBEY-- _ Eldrin hissed in ecstasy, pressing the brick to his cheek. The thing radiated power and unnatural warmth.  _ His voice is speaking, so loud and clear! _ Eldrin stood just at the cusp of understanding the things that would be required of him. A need to understand and obey consumed him.

 

Valka quickly shut the door behind him. This was not something anyone else should see. 

 

“Eldrin, what are you doing?” The young mer’s face was blank, rapturous, and he was cradling a... brick...? Against his face? Valka drew nearer, and when he was within a yard he heard the distant whispering. His face twisted with understanding and repugnance, and he knelt to try and pull the brick away from Eldrin. “Let go. Let it go. They will not have you.”

 

“No!” Eldrin snarled, face suddenly contorting in grotesque fury, yanking the brick back toward his chest.  _ Kill him kill him kill him! _ the voices sang.

 

Valka placed a hand on Eldrin's shoulder and released magicka, conferring the Burden. He didn't want to have to hurt the Dunmer to make him release the source of the poisonous whispers. He was ready to catch it up so that it didn't land on the mer's chest.

 

Eldrin sank under the sudden pressing weight, crumpling sideways and catching himself with one arm while the other dropped, unable to hold the brick any longer. The unnatural heaviness of his body did not disturb him at all, but the sudden loss of clarity as the voices receded was intolerable.

 

“No! So close!” Eldrin cried, curling down further until his forehead touched the floor.

 

Valka hauled the brick out into the center of the room, placed it on the floor, and brought the butt of the spear down on it as hard as he could. His guess proved correct: something inside it cracked, as though there were a hollow space there. He hit it again. And again, rattling the floor with the force of the impact. And again, until the voices finally stopped and he was looking at two halves of a brick, a splintered spear butt and what looked like the shards of a statue worked from hollow black-and-red clay.

 

The dim, warm space faded away, the voices withdrew. Eldrin blinked into the cool dark of his room. A loud noise had woken him, but now Eldrin realized he wasn't in his bed. Panic gripped him as he fought to raise his body from the floor, but he could only raise his torso a few inches before his trembling arms gave out and he collapsed back onto his side.

 

“What's happening?” he gasped. He felt as though his chest were weighted down with bricks. His ribs labored to expand with his lungs.

 

Valka laid down the spear and doffed the gauntlets as he went to sit hastily beside Eldrin, scooping him into his lap. He held the Dunmer upright against his armor so that he could breathe, one hand around his head to keep it from falling. His touch was careful. He didn't want to break Eldrin's ribs against the metal corset.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I burdened you to make you let go of the brick. It was whispering to you. Now I've broken it. The effect will pass in a minute or so.”

 

He  _ did  _ feel cold.  _ Poor mer.  _ Valka felt a surprising anger. To creep into someone's mind while they were in that state of helplessness, unable to defend themselves for sheer mortal weakness? It was despicable. A god or daedra should not have to stoop to such a thing.

 

Valka's body was so hot. It brought Eldrin back to the warmth of the dream, but still it was vague, half-remembered. He didn't understand. He'd been dreaming, but what?

 

“Brick?” he asked, uncomprehending and terrified, eyes darting rapidly across Valka's face and the room beyond him as if in search for an answer. His head rolled to the side and he could see the broken brick in the center of the room. For a moment Eldrin had no idea where that had come from until he remembered:  _ Uncle Zulkan's brick? _

 

He let himself sink into Valka's heat while his furious heartbeat gradually slowed. There was nothing else he  _ could  _ do. He was helpless and that was frightening even when he knew that he was safe. When Eldrin felt the weight lessen he pushed against Valka's chest to be let go. His face burned as hot as his skin where Valka had held him.

 

“It was in a basket in your closet,” Valka said. He felt Eldrin's heart thundering against his right hand where it held the Dunmer up. “There was some kind of statue embedded inside it. Black and red.” The Mazken let Eldrin go at the first push, not too suddenly so that he wouldn't fall over. At least Eldrin didn't seem angry at him. He seemed confused and upset, which made perfect sense under the circumstances.

 

And now Valka felt... sad?

 

_ For a moment he was safe and warm, but he was afraid. Well, what did you expect? He came to himself on the floor and unable to move and you did that to him. _

 

_ I did it to keep him safe from that thing! _

 

_ Does that make it better for him? He doesn't want you to touch him. He uses the word appropriate but you know that's not the answer. _

 

Eldrin rolled out of Valka's arms onto his knees. He stood quickly to put distance between them and his embarrassment at having been held, then dropped down again to sit before the thing which lay broken in halves on his floor.  Valka rose slowly to his feet and went to get his gauntlets.

 

“I don't understand... My Uncle Zulkan gave this brick to me. What is this inside?” Eldrin picked up one half of the brick to examine the protruding clay shards and suddenly the dream came flooding back to him.  _ The voices. I was hearing voices! What were they saying...? _ Eldrin clenched shut his eyes, trying to remember. “They told me to obey. They called me brother. Kin.. of the Tribe...” Eldrin threw the brick down as if it had suddenly burned him, eyes round with horror. “Almsivi! Valka, this is related to the 6th House somehow, but I don't understand! I don't understand!” He fisted his own hair and stood, backing away from the thing on the floor with wild eyes.

 

Valka turned, frowning. “Calm,” he said. “Its power to do harm is ended. What is the Sixth House, Eldrin?” He had known of Almsivi before Eldrin's first summons, but this phrase was new to him. It had the voices of the skull they had taken from the tomb, of the urn he had hidden in the Manor during the duel. He could not understand their words because they could not get into his mind.

 

Eldrin had understood the words. A feeling of cold fingers gripped Valka's spine. They had been whispering to him as he slept for how long now? Certainly for days. Perhaps since before he was summoned the first time. First scratching at his chair, then holding the brick to his face – what had they intended him to do, at the last? Would he have ended up shuffling in the back room of the shop under skar? A sacrifice to the words on the skull, used until dead and thrown away like a crushed reed? Or something somehow even worse?

 

Eldrin shuddered at an earwigs-crawling-beneath-skin sensation. That thing had been inside his mind! He hurriedly picked up his bedside candle from its leaf-shaped holder and moved around the room to light the lanterns that had burned out. It was too dark, dark like the dream had been. His anxiety lessened as the light grew and he could see that there weren't any distorted creatures hiding in the black corners of the room.

 

“Ha!” Eldrin barked dryly, still moving frantically from light to light. “A child could tell you about the Sixth House. I'm always forgetting that you-- Remember the Ghost Fence? I never did explain what it's for, did I? It isn't there because it's pretty. Can you imagine the sort of evil such a barrier is keeping at bay?” He set the candle back on its holder and paced toward Valka, arms crossed and tightly gripping his elbows as if chilled. He couldn't stop staring at the thing on the floor. It had to be taken to the Temple to be properly destroyed. He had to get it out of his house!

 

“The remnants of the Sixth House are what lay beyond that wall. The Sharmat Dagoth Ur lives with his kin below Red Mountain.” Eldrin spoke quickly, agitated, glancing back and forth between the brick on the floor and Valka.  _ Kin, the voice called me kin... _ “Our gods, Almsivi, have caged him there. He sends disease and dreams to corrupt the weak and turn them into his monstrous slaves. The racer we saw, wedged in the rocks? It was probably blighted. Travel from Vvardenfell to the mainland is severely restricted because of it.” Did Valka even know that they were on an island? It didn't matter now.

 

“So we are on an island whose center is occupied by an invading force of evil supernatural beings,” Valka said. “A very poorly contained one. Why do people live here?” His voice revealed his confusion. It would be as if the forces of Order occupied an enclave in the Shivering Isles all of the time, and its Priests and Knights constantly crept out to recruit and attack, not just during the rare Greymarch. To him it seemed that even the mad would find that situation intolerable. “At least I see why you are so devoted to these gods that are themselves ascended mortals, if they are the only thing that protects you from the Sixth House.”

 

He followed Eldrin's anxious glances toward the broken statue as the Dunmer nervously orbited the room lighting the lights.  _ It is distressing him further.  _ Valka went to begin sweeping the fragments back into the wicker basket with his gauntleted hands. The thing was silent now. He couldn't escape the thought that he had killed something venomous, like an elytra creeping near a cradle.

 

“That's not the only reason we are devoted to them,” Eldrin said defensively. He stopped to watch Valka scoop the thing into the basket. “And it's not as bad as all that. You've never seen a sleeper roaming the streets of Ald'ruhn, have you? This... this THING has been planted here deliberately. I would have been fine otherwise.” He stooped to pick up the cloth that had covered it and threw it back over the basket, then pushed the basket up against the wall by the door with his foot.

 

“Uncle Zulkan would never... He must not have known that thing was inside the brick... But...” Eldrin came back, nervously chewing on his thumbnail with his arms still tightly crossed. Zulkan had pushed him out the door awfully quickly with that brick. But Zulkan often behaved in bizarre ways. He'd been thinking of his late wife because of the ring. Eldrin assumed he wanted to drink in solitude.

 

“Your parent's sibling gave you this object,” Valka interpreted. He couldn't recall if the word in Dunmeris encoded which parent's sibling or the gender of the sibling in question. It was a kin or clan bond, that much he remembered firmly.

 

He frowned down at it, sorting back through recent memories. “If this is associated with the Sixth House, so is the skull that we found. The voice was the same. And in that case, so is the shop under skar where you went to obtain the urn. I thought that this must be an ordinary thing in your world, like the undeads inside the tomb.” He looked back up at Eldrin. “I regret that I did not say something sooner. This is the result of arrogantly showing no interest in the things around me while I was in this plane.”

 

“Zulkan Narave is my mother's brother,” Eldrin clarified.  “I don't know what to do,” he said, glancing helplessly at Valka. “If I go to the Temple this could ruin my uncle. They'll investigate him... And me... I can't admit this has happened...”

 

The frown deepened as the Mazken realized what Eldrin was saying. "Is being investigated socially fatal?"

 

“That shop.... Gods, the skull... I remember now, the words written on the thing. ‘The Tribe Unmourned.’ How could I have been so stupid? They used me like a pawn! Black dread crept across him, tightening cold fingers around the base of his skull. Eldrin suddenly felt so sick that it made him dizzy. He had to sit down on the edge of his bed, bracing his elbow against his thigh and leaning his head into his palm. Working this out felt like trudging through piles of ash in slow motion while tension held his head in a vice-like grip.

 

“Uncle Zulkan is the one who mentioned... that shop... No, no, this can't be happening. He told me not to go there!” Eldrin insisted to no one, eyes brimming with dread and confusion as they snapped up to Valka. He was too preoccupied to register the final question.

 

Valka came over and sat beside him, leaning the spear against the bed, not quite shoulder to shoulder. He could feel Eldrin's mounting agitation and sympathized with it, but he didn't know what to do that would help rather than contribute. Touching him was obviously right out. He looked at the Dunmer with his head slightly on one side.

 

“He told you not to go there,” Valka said. “Did he also tell you not to hide a cursed object in someone's house?”

 

Eldrin followed Valka with his head as he came to sit. Again he could feel the incredible heat of the daedra so close to him, and Eldrin briefly wished he could lean into it. “Well...” He turned his darkening face away, looking down at his hands clenched on his thighs, brows furrowing as he tried to remember exactly how that conversation had gone. “He didn't say it as bluntly as that... But yes.” Eldrin was physically ill, knots in his stomach and pressure in his head. He had to be wrong about Zulkan.  _ I'm jumping to conclusions... There has to be another explanation. _ His uncle was the last person in the world Eldrin had to trust. Eldrin exhaled a sharp, shuddering breath, shoulders sinking.

 

“I'm sorry,” Valka said. He had never met or seen Eldrin's uncle, but from how obviously distraught Eldrin was, they must have been close. Obviously closer than he felt to his father, whom he constantly avoided. “Do you know what he would have expected to happen if you had not realized it was cursed? What does the Sixth House want from one person?”

 

“I don't really know,” Eldrin said, shrugging helplessly. “The dreams give you soul sickness. They make you violent and deranged. I've heard stories of soul sick mer who just disappear, probably trying to get to Red Mountain. If that happens you'll become a monster...” Eldrin paused as he remembered impressions of certain dreams. He raised a hand to his face, suddenly terrified that he would find something distorted and unfamiliar, but no, he felt normal. Valka would tell him if not. He breathed and continued. “Usually their behavior gets bizarre enough that somebody notices and then the Temple intervenes. That happened to someone here a few years ago, Thilse Mandran. She was confined to her home but I don't know what happened after that. This isn't a common thing and people don't talk about it.”

 

“You are not turning into a monster,” Valka said gently. “And you are suffering, but you are sane. We stopped it in time.” He understood what Eldrin was suggesting – he was afraid that if everyone knew he had had a cursed object in his home, he might be declared sick and made to disappear. Perhaps the Temple authorities were more rational than that. Or perhaps they needed someone to be sick every so often so that it would be obvious they were doing something. He didn't know the local situation well enough to decide on it. “Let us take the remains of this object and dispose of it where it won't be found, and go from there. But something will have to be done about your uncle, Eldrin. He will at some point realize you are not changing, and you will need to have an answer prepared if he asks about the thing he gave you. That a guest stole it, that it was lost somehow.” He shifted position slightly, one arm leaning on the spear.

 

“Yes...” Eldrin slowly agreed despite a niggling doubt. This was another wrong thing he was doing, to dispose of the artifact without telling anyone. He might come to regret it later, as he had come to regret many things. But right now he saw no happy alternative.

 

“And what about the urn?” Valka asked.  “Do you wish this fate on your other uncle's family, this madness and violence? If not, we should think about how to retrieve that and destroy it as well.”

 

Now Eldrin sunk his face in his hands again, burdened by the guilt of what he had done. Planting the urn had been a nasty thing to do even before he knew it was a Sixth House artifact. Perhaps he hated Garisa and Sanvyn Llethri, but would he have Garisa going mad or transforming into a monster? Of course not.

 

“No,” he said miserably. “I have to get it back.” He lifted his head slightly to look aside at Valka, hands still clasped over his chin and mouth. “I don't know how I can ever face Sanvyn or his family again. I can't think of it tonight. I'm so exhausted, Valka, but I feel like I've got beetles crawling around under my skin. How can things get any worse?”

 

“The house could catch fire and collapse on both of us,” Valka said. “Tsamabi could burst through the door wielding twin swords and declare herself an agent of the Temple here to purge the evil of both daedra and the Sixth House. Sanvyn could find the urn and trace it back to you somehow -”

 

Eldrin stared dully at Valka for a moment, then began to smile behind his hands, and then his face crumpled and he dropped his head again, hiding his face in his palms and curling inward. His eyes began to sting, his shoulders jumped with a shaking inhalation.  _ I've screwed up harder than ever before! If Sanvyn found the urn I would never recover. I would be as good as dead! _

 

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” Valka said, risking an awkward pat on the back. “I've made it worse, haven't I? None of those things is likely to happen, Eldrin. Why would Sanvyn be looking under his father's bed? He is not a madmer, and I put it behind some bags of linen.” He sat still for a moment with his hand on Eldrin's back, thinking. “Perhaps we should go to an inn or lodging-house for tonight and try and get the urn tomorrow. Then you will not have to try to sleep in this room, and perhaps it will be easier for you.”

 

Eldrin discreetly wiped slight moisture from his eyes as he pulled his hands away. He hated how damn emotional he'd been in front of Valka lately, but his every nerve had been rubbed raw with so many bad things happening all at once.

 

The weight of the gauntlet on his naked back was startling at first and Eldrin twitched slightly.  _ He's touching me, _ Eldrin thought stupidly, eyes flicking aside at Valka and back again. He didn't have the brainpower to process that any further. Slowly he relaxed under Valka's hand.

 

“It's all right, Valka,” he said quietly, straightening and reaching hesitantly up to pat the back of Valka's arm in turn. “I know you were trying to help. I -- thank you. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't been here to break that thing.” He looked away, unable to make eye contact as he thanked the Mazken for some reason. He felt foolish that he couldn't. He added quickly, “Yes, let's get away from here. I can't stand to be in this room another minute.”

 

Eldrin stood abruptly to flit about the room, gathering up things and hurriedly dressing in the first decent clothing that he could grab, a linen undershirt and then a robe of plush magenta velvet to hide the fact that he was wearing bedclothes beneath it. Usually he'd dress that up with a sash or a vest but Eldrin really didn't care how he looked that night. He shoved a spare change of clothes and other necessities inside the little knapsack before briefly fleeing across the hall to the bathroom and then to the armory for his tanto, returning within two minutes with the bag over his shoulder and the weapon hanging from his belt. He stopped again in front of the vanity to quickly tie back his hair- only slightly disheveled from an hour of sleep- in a low tail with a piece of black ribbon. He had turned away again when, almost as an afterthought, he grabbed up the amulet and the ring, slipping the necklace over his head and tucking the ring under his collar.

 

Valka’s instinct had not been completely wrong. Eldrin did calm a little. Valka nodded and stood up slowly as he watched the Dunmer rush around preparing himself to leave. He felt a peculiar warmth at being thanked a second time. Where Eldrin had touched him he was sure that he glowed. Probably best not to think about that too hard. This was a strange situation, and he was still confused on many levels. Being in contact with another body in a situation of trust was new to his experience. It was probably not surprising that he was adjusting badly. He came from a place where real change did not happen for hundreds of years at a time.

 

He had done something more useful free than he had ever done while mired in servitude. That might be something worth thinking about later. Certainly it would be worth pointing out to Eldrin if that argument ever came up. It was probably uncharitable to assume that it would. Eldrin had been through a lot today. He would need time to equilibrate. Anyone would.

 

After stepping into the boots from earlier Eldrin hesitated, glancing at Valka, and opened a bottom drawer of the wardrobe to retrieve a pair of brown leather gloves for himself to hide the fact that he was not actually wearing Valka's ring. He was already heading for the door as he pulled them on.

 

“Let's go,” he said, the pale globe of light rising from his gloved palm as he lead the way up the dark stairwell. He could see only blackness beyond the little bubble window over the door, but he could hear ashy wind buffeting the walls. He stopped to retrieve the same shawl he had worn earlier out of the bench in the hall, and noticed his tasseled olive shawl was there as well. He hesitated. Then he picked it up and held it out to Valka.

 

“It's storming still,” Eldrin said awkwardly, averting his eyes to the door.

 

The wind was howling outside as they ascended the stairs. Valka squinted, bracing himself for the ash, and then blinked in startlement as Eldrin offered him a shawl.

 

“Thank you,” he said, and his voice showed his surprise and gratitude. He wrapped it a bit clumsily after the fashion that had seen Eldrin use before. It was not entirely his imagination that it smelled of Dunmer. He wasn't sure how he felt about that either. Not repulsed. Possibly just confused again.

 

He followed Eldrin out into the storm. The moons could barely be seen in the distance, great, dim outlines nearly obscured by clouds and ashes. The wind was cold and sharp as he tugged the door shut as quietly as possible, and then he moved out after the Dunmer, spear in hand, his footsteps solidly audible as he went.

 

Eldrin distracted himself from looking at Valka by putting on his own shawl and then they were out in the disorienting wind. It pushed at him insistently, trying to rip away his hood, pelting his face with stinging ash even when he bowed his head to avoid it. The cold didn't wake him up at all. Eldrin merely felt that he were walking through a nightmare of a different sort as he blearily navigated toward the closest inn. He'd never slept there, but had drank at the bar on a few occasions.  

 

The shawl really did help. It covered Valka’s naked chest and neck and he felt substantially less flayed by the wind and ash than he would have been without it.

 

It was only a ten minute walk to the squat, dome-shaped shell, and Eldrin sighed in relief when they were inside. It was not quite warm by the door but it was pleasant for the lack of biting wind. To the left and the right twin staircases lead downstairs, and between them a short series of steps lead to a platform where the bar was situated. It was quiet inside, no music, the clientele a mix of Dunmer and outlander. A few heads turned to look at the door first with disinterest, then with shock, and then more joined them as whispers or shoves grabbed their attention. Eldrin felt self conscious of this rather than prideful as he moved up the steps, toward the warmth and soothing yellow light of a dome-shaped hearth to the left of the room. A pair of Imperials, their attire suggesting merchants, were seated at the table closest to this and their eyes followed the pair with interest.

 

Valka tugged down the shawl and followed Eldrin toward the hearth as he looked around, spear still in hand. He watched them watching him with no expression on the high sharp planes of his face. It would always be thus if he followed Eldrin in public. It had never shocked him, but for the first time he felt that it might become annoying to the Dunmer over time now that the first glow of possessive superiority was gone.

 

There was a small Dunmer in plain brown homespuns near the door, wearing a hide belt and a hide thong in the mass of untidy hair that hung not quite to his shoulders. He wore a club dangling from his belt and a brown woolen shawl draped over one shoulder. He looked up at them with the others as they came in, eyes hardly seeming to focus – he must be very drunk. There was a mug in front of him on the table, anyway. He got up and stumbled out as they approached the hearth.

 

Valka glanced at Eldrin before he returned to watching the room. At least he was trying to warm himself. That was good.

 

“Three blessings, Muthsera,” A Dunmer called out to Eldrin from behind the bar. “Care to warm yourself with a drink while you warm by the fire?”

 

“....No,” Eldrin breathed reluctantly, closing his eyes for a moment as he held out his gloved hands to the fire. He hadn't planned to stay upstairs long, but his muscles were uncomfortably bunched from the cold and he at least wanted to lose his chill. “I only wanted a room. One night.”

 

“Of course.” She picked a key up from a peg on the wall behind herself, eyes locked on Valka as she wove through the tables toward Eldrin. She seemed curious, not afraid. “Third room from the right of the stairwell. Is this a Dark Seducer? You don't see one of those every day.”

 

“No, you certainly don't,” Eldrin agreed tiredly, taking the key as she held it out for him.

 

\---

 

Selun Kharvanak staggered and swayed his way away from the inn and toward the street where the homes of the artisans mostly were, where the small manor of Zulkan Narave was. Anyone passing would take him for a drunk. He was not; he had had only a small glass of sujamma; but it warmed him a little as he stumbled on through the Dream. The voice of the Master always whispered in his ears now, speaking of the day when the Tribe would rise and reclaim its own. It filled him with purpose and joy even as it placed a comfortable fog between him and everything around him.

 

He knocked at the door of Zulkan Narave's house. The Argonian maid looked out at him, nostrils scissoring shut against the stink of his unwashed body. “Oh, it is you again. One moment, the Master is reading.”

 

Selun leaned against the wall by the door as he waited, humming tunelessly along with the chorus in his head, eyes fixed on nothing. He turned to look at somewhere in the vicinity of the door as it opened again.

 

“You can't keep coming here every week,” Zulkan said. “I'll give you a septim, fellow, but I'm not a charitable endeavor. Go to the Temple and they'll take care of you.”

 

“You are generous, Muthsera, and a poor mer thanks you,” Selun intoned, receiving the coin and tucking it away. He added more quietly, “Your nephew is at the Four Glasses with his daedra. He looks as though he has slept little.”

 

“There with his friends?” Zulkan said, in the same near-whisper.

 

“No, just the Mazken. He ordered a room. Good night, Muthsera, good night!” He bowed with hands pressed together and stumbled away into the storm. His house would be warm and full of sweet voices, though he lived there alone.

 

Zulkan shut the door and calmly went to sit by the hearth with his glass of mazte-and-water. It wasn't surprising that Eldrin was upset. What was surprising was that he wasn't either drinking himself flat or here at Zulkan's house, telling him all about it. And now he was preparing to sleep somewhere out of his own home. That did not look optimistic.

 

Perhaps it was time to pass this on to stronger arms than Zulkan's.

 

\---

 

“And where did you ever get such a thing, boy? You're far too young to be a summoner of that caliber,” one of the Imperials said, emboldened by drink, although he spoke with friendly curiosity.

 

“A family heirloom,” Eldrin replied. He was still cold but he turned away from the fire anyhow. He didn't want to be bothered. “Come, Valka,” he said, more to announce his departure than anything else.

 

Valka turned to look the speaker over closely, face impassive. It was not the look of concentrated barely-contained loathing he might have used last week at this same time, but it was not a friendly expression. His eyes lingered on the Imperial's a moment more than strictly necessary before he turned to follow Eldrin.

 

The downstairs was quite empty and a bit dark, lit only by sconces spaced far apart. Eldrin tiredly unlocked his door, one in a row of many. He lit the glass lantern on the bedside table by the light from the hall, trying twice before the little spark of flame jumped from his fingertips.

 

The room was not nearly as large as Eldrin's own but two people could move about comfortably within, although the ceiling was low, about six inches from Valka's head. There was not much in it; a little round table with one chair by the door, a chest at the foot of a bed a bit smaller than Eldrin's, a wash basin, and a short chest of drawers. The tapestry on the wall was inoffensively secular for the benefit of the outlanders, Eldrin noted; just pleasing geometric shapes. There weren't any plants or any other decorations. He tossed his bag under the bedside table and sat on the bed to remove his boots. The linen coverlet seemed a little thin compared to what he was used to, but everything smelled freshly laundered and the room seemed clean, at least.

 

Valka watched the hall vigilantly as Eldrin unlocked the door. He didn't know what he was expecting. A flood of ash-encrusted cultists was not likely in a public inn on a patrolled residential street. Still, he felt a sense of foreboding. Something had been stalking Eldrin since before they had ever met, and he still felt himself to be a stranger in a strange land. He, too, was an outlander here.

 

When the door was shut Valka took up station beside it, leaning on the spear. He looked politely at nothing. He felt a little weary, but standing still for a while would easily mend him.

 

Eldrin kicked his boots away, flopped his gloves onto the table and the shawl onto the floor, then glanced awkwardly at Valka with his hands tucked into his armpits. There wasn't any place to undress in privacy, but he supposed that didn't matter. He was tired enough to sleep in his clothes- not that he hadn't drunkenly done the same enough times already. He didn't really want to throw away his body heat, anyway.

 

“Are you sure you want to stay all night?” Eldrin asked carefully. Standing silently and watching someone sleep for around eight hours would have been tortuously monotonous to Eldrin. “I mean... Perhaps I should have brought you a book.”

 

“No, I would rather stay,” Valka said. He did not hesitate. Standing in place was dull, but it was not new to him. He had guarded many walls and many rooms. And he did not want to increase Eldrin's agitation by pointing out his reasons, but Eldrin had both been seen by an entire taproom to possess a very valuable object, and had people who definitely wished him both spiritual and physical harm. He intended to guard his former master very closely until there was some sort of resolution to this. As much as Eldrin would allow him. “I can face the wall if it makes things easier for you, but I feel you should be guarded.”

 

Eldrin actually laughed at the offer, picturing Valka with his nose to the corner like a punished child.

 

“No, Valka, do whatever you want to do,” he said, waving a tired hand at the Mazken, still smiling slightly as he lifted the covers and climbed under them in robe and amulet and all.  Under normal circumstances Valka being in the room while he slept might have made him uncomfortable but tonight his presence only offered a sense of security, and Eldrin found that he felt slightly less lonely than usual.  He briefly lamented the lack of a warm body to curl up against, as he always did, but it wasn't so bad.

 

“Good night, Valka,” Eldrin said quietly for the second time that night, turning away from the light at his side and closing his heavy lids.  He wasn't even able to think of all the horrible things he would have to face tomorrow or the horrible things he had faced already.  Nothing seemed to matter just then.

 

“Good night, Eldrin,” Valka said quietly.

 

It was a strange thing, watching a living creature fall asleep.  He had never stopped to do this.  It had never been his appointed task.  He had to quell an internal alarm –  _ Eldrin is dying!  Heal him, quickly! _ \- for many seconds as he listened to the Dunmer's breathing slow and grow more shallow and regular.  Even then, he watched closely, his stomach balling up with tense anticipation as he watched the mer's breathing in case of sudden cessation.  But no, this was healthy and normal for a mortal creature.  Nothing was wrong.  In fact, he would be better for it.

 

He had always heard other Mazken express what he himself had felt, that sleep was a bizarre weakness of the mortal state and a clear evidence of daedric superiority.  Certainly it was a vulnerability.  The nervous awareness of that fact was what drove him to stay even though watching Eldrin sleep was not an exciting pastime.  Someone could creep and do anything to a sleeper, it seemed to him.  He could not imagine how they ever felt safe enough to do it.  The physical need must be overpowering.

 

There were no strange disturbances, no walking about, no hurting his hands or trying to escape to run off to Red Mountain.  Eldrin slept on, moving occasionally, eyes twitching behind his eyelids.  He must be dreaming, another state that no daedra could achieve without drugs or divine intervention.  Valka gradually relaxed as the hours passed, turning his attention outward.  People passed in the hall occasionally, on the way to their own rooms.  Footsteps, quiet voices, a small burst of drunken laughter that didn't seem to disturb the exhausted Dunmer in front of him.

 

_ We were right to come here. _


	16. Chapter 16

The light in the hall changed only a little when the morning came, growing a little brighter and paler as the sunlight from the upstairs windows weakly overpowered the dim lamps.

 

Eldrin's eyes opened and he squinted at an unfamiliar room, slowly trying to make sense of where he was. He felt that he'd just been walking the streets of Vivec, although the streets had been utterly deserted and none of the doors into the canton would open. Valka had been there, standing guard in front of one such door, and when Eldrin asked where it lead to the Mazken only stared at him and refused to answer.  _ What a stupid dream.  _ But it hadn't been whispering voices.

 

And there was Valka, still standing where Eldrin had seen him last. Did he really not move an inch the entire night? Eldrin wondered, shaking in a pleasurable full-body stretch under the covers. He sat up slowly, a tangle of hair falling over one side of his face.

 

It seemed to take an unconscionably long time for the Dunmer to return to consciousness as well. Valka watched with mild curiosity. Perhaps they were such social creatures because they needed to protect each other when they were this vulnerable and helpless. That didn't make complete sense because they seemed to all sleep at roughly the same time, from what he had heard.

 

“Enf,” he grunted at Valka. His throat was dry but it wasn't the painful constricting ache of dehydration after a night of drinking. Aside from the brain fog of having just woken, Eldrin actually felt pretty good.

 

It was refreshing to wake up someplace that was not his home, Eldrin thought, even if it was just a crappy little room at an inn. It made him feel like a different person living a different life. W _ hat if I just never go home? Drop off the face of Nirn, travel with Valka, never be married or deal with Father or Uncle or Sanvyn. _ Thinking of the characters who populated his life made him sigh, and Eldrin half-turned to fish around in the bed behind him for the ribbon that had worked itself out of his hair.

 

“Enf,” Valka grunted politely in return. It wasn't familiar from the words he knew in Dunmeris, but maybe it was local slang. “It's on your right under the pillow. You lost it about four hours ago when you turned over. Did all that go well, from your perspective? I can't really tell.”

 

Being still had refreshed him. He was not thrilled to think about what they were probably going to do today, but at least he felt ready to face it, and hopefully Eldrin was also better equipped to do so. He was not sorry he had chosen to stay.

 

Eldrin smiled briefly at Valka's naiveté, then shot him a funny look - some bewilderment, mild alarm. He didn't realize he'd been scrutinized under that level of detail as he slept. That made him feel strange in a way he couldn't quite identify.

 

_ He was guarding the ring, not you, _ Eldrin thought.  _ But then, nothing is stopping him from holding the ring himself. He is here because he wants to be. _ He was still very confused about why Valka was being so helpful. Wasn't that what Eldrin had wanted all along? For Valka to accept his place, to serve Eldrin obediently? Why did Eldrin feel so discouraged now that he had this?

 

“Thanks,” Eldrin said carefully, and indeed his fingers found the ribbon under the pillow just as Valka said. He threw it on the nightstand and pushed aside the covers to sit at the side of the bed, looking at Valka with his hands in his lap. His clothes were rumpled from sleep. “Yes, it was fine. I feel a lot better. And now that I'm thinking more clearly... I can't just let things rest with my uncle. I have to know for sure whether he did this to me on purpose or if there was some mistake. Maybe the Sixth House cultists have done something to him... Maybe that's why he's a little odd sometimes. But I have to help him if I can. I know I need to get the urn back. But I don't know how to do that without facing Sanvyn right now.”

 

_ Coward,  _ Eldrin told himself.  _ Sanvyn called me that and it was true. I can talk tough when I'm drunk, but I can't lower myself to make amends even if it's only an excuse to gain access to his house. _

 

Valka could not interpret Eldrin's look. Probably he was bothered by the idea of someone watching him as he slept. It would certainly bother Valka to have someone staring at him for hours while he was in a state of helpless, unconscious immobility.

 

_ Possibly not if it was someone like Eldrin. He would not do anything. Or he would get bored and wander off. Or he would go to sleep. _

 

“You could embroider the truth,” Valka said. “Tell Sanvyn someone planted a Sixth House statue in your home under your bed and that you are afraid they are targeting all of the house of Llethri. They may scoff at you but they will also check under their beds, if the fear of the Sixth House is as dire and widespread as it seems. And they have no incentive to spread the tale if it would draw the Temple's attention to them as well as to you.”

 

Eldrin sighed heavily. He didn't love the idea, but it was probably the most sensible one.

 

“That's a bold move, but I guess no one would ever suspect me of having put the urn there in the first place if I'm the one to warn them,” he said, standing and grabbing his bag from the floor to shake the contents out onto the bed. A brush and bottles and little carrying cases full of soap and other cleaning supplies bounced out on top of his folded clothes. Last night he had thought these all essential. Today Eldrin could not stomach the thought of bathing in the same tub used by countless filthy travelers, but at least he could clean his teeth. “Valka, would you wait outside for just a minute?” he asked.

 

Valka took up a post outside the door. A slender blond human who was probably Breton gave him a startled double-take on his way past, knapsack and lute on his shoulder. “Good heavens,” he said in Cyrodilic. “Are you a daedra?”

 

“Yes,” Valka said in the same tongue. “Please move on. You are obstructing the hallway.”

 

“Right, right.” The man headed for the stairs, pausing to stare back over his shoulder. “Er... what sort?”

 

“Mazken,” Valka said patiently. “In this tongue we are also called Dark Seducers.”

 

“Right!” The man vanished upstairs. A second later he came partway back down to say, “Do you go about seducin' people, then?”

 

“Some do,” Valka said. “That is not my particular vocation.”

 

“Right. You're guardin' a door, I expect.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I'll ah, I'll just be pushin' along, then.” The man actually left this time. Valka looked after him bemusedly for a while. Most people didn't try to talk to him. Perhaps the man had been a bit drunk even early in the morning.

 

It took Eldrin closer to twenty minutes before he emerged dressed and groomed, in a high-collared, desaturated indigo tunic with stiff golden trim on the neck and hem. The sleeves gathered loosely at his elbows and then tightened again around his lower arm, the sleeve ending in a clam shell ruffle of more golden trim. It was mostly patternless save for a large cliff racer embroidered in more gold thread on the bottom left half, neck and tail gracefully arced so that its back curved in a semi-circle. Gold silk pants were tucked into his boots, and the necklace was well hidden under his clothes. He'd tied back his hair the same as last night. He was wearing the gloves again, bag over his shoulder. The shawl did not look right with the rest of his clothing so it was stuffed in the bag. Briefly he considered asking Valka to trade him, but decided against that.

 

He seemed fresh, alert, even contemplative as he went upstairs to pay his tab. He came back with a clear glass bottle of water and a kwama skewer, which he was already eating as they came out the door into the late morning light. Eldrin still felt slightly detached from the recent proceedings in his life but his mind was clear to think of them with more objectivity today. He was frowning at the ground as he slowly worked on his skewer, leading Valka through the streets toward Zulkan's manor without paying much mind to the world around him. He was thinking more about what he could possibly say to Uncle Zulkan to get the truth from him. Would it be best to be direct? He might not even know he'd been poisoned by the Sixth House.

 

Valka averted his eyes from the spectacle of Eldrin eating and drinking as he trundled patiently after him through the quiet streets, but it was good that he was taking care of himself. For that matter it was the first time he'd seen Eldrin drinking water. The light was more as it had been on the day they had gone to the kwama pits. The light changed so often here. He supposed it gave a mortal life a rhythm, a way to keep track of the precious fleeting seconds and minutes and hours. The warm sun on his back was pleasant, and he was able to go with the scarf around his neck instead of pulled up to protect him. There was ash on the ground, ash on the plants, though he noticed that the trama and scathecraw leaves had already shed it, their sharp and pointed shapes probably evolved to exactly that purpose.

 

Before Eldrin knew it he was there, standing before the door. A light wind swirled last night's ash deposits around his boots and tugged weakly at his hair without really moving it, but the rising sun warmed his back. Eldrin shifted the now empty skewer into the hand that held the bottle so that he could knock and then turned to Valka.

 

“Did I ever tell you that this uncle is the one who gifted me your ring? I can't remember. But... Kerghed was the great-grandfather of Uncle Zulkan's late wife.” He was not sure why he was telling Valka trivia about his previous tormentor, but it seemed relevant.

 

“So your uncle is not actually related to Kerghed by blood, only by kin-bond,” Valka translated Eldrin's explanation in a way that made sense to him. It probably made no difference, this many generations down the line, but he felt slightly relieved that he was probably not about to meet someone who looked like his old master.

 

A chubby Argonian with a toothy short muzzle opened the door. She squinted up at them; the inside of the house was certainly dimmer than the rising sun that backlit the two men.

 

“Oh, good morning, Master Eldrin,” she said. “Please come in. Your uncle's just finishing breakfast, do you want some?” She backed up to admit them, drying her hands on an apron. She eyed Valka partly with fear and partly with curiosity, but she seemed less intimidated than Tsamabi had been. But then, she also seemed less afraid of Eldrin than Tsamabi had been. Perhaps Zulkan had a freer hand with his servants in general, or less of a temper.

 

“That's right,” Eldrin said as the door opened. With it, his stomach dropped. He was terrified of whatever he might soon learn about his uncle. “Good morning,” he answered uneasily. “No, I don't think so.” He held out the empty skewer to the Argonian as he moved inside toward the dining room. The world was slowing down and his heart was speeding up with every step and when Eldrin reached the doorway he hesitated there, leaning his arm against the jamb.

 

Bakes-Fine-Breads bobbed her head as she took the skewer – she'd been handed worse things on one of Eldrin's visits – and gave an uncomprehending look to Valka's polite nod before she turned to bustle back into the dining room and thence to the kitchen.

 

“Good morning, Uncle,” Eldrin said stiffly. He'd been attempting to speak normally but his voice didn't come out the way he wanted it to.

 

Zulkan sat at the dining table behind an empty plate that had probably held part of a kwama egg. He had a clay cup in his hand and a jug near his elbow, just as he always did. His need for alcohol had so far surpassed his illusions that he no longer even pretended not to drink at breakfast. He had weaned himself onto a very diluted mazte-and-water, but he had never been able to give it up. Now he looked up as a shadow fell across the floor.

 

“Good morning, Eldrin,” he said. “What's wrong? Come, sit. Are you hungry? I see you've got... water... ah. Perhaps you're trying to give up drinking. Well, good for you. I've never wanted to see you go the way I went, boy.” His eyes flickered past Eldrin in surprise as he saw the Mazken appear in the doorway behind his nephew. “And you've brought your Mazken?”

 

For his part, Valka looked curiously on this provoker of so many strong emotions. He saw a middle-aged Dunmer, gone slightly to pot around the middle but handsome of features, who showed the marks of fatigue and the stress of many years. Valka was aware of the faint scent of alcohol, connecting that with his statement to Eldrin. Zulkan wore plainer clothing than Eldrin, gray linens with sober black thread around the collar and sleeves, no billowing fabric around the shoulders or pointed toes to his soft shoes. His belt was stiffened wool.

 

Zulkan was acting his usual self. It put Eldrin at ease only slightly. He moved slowly into the room, coming to stand behind a chair with one hand braced on the back of it.

 

“Well, cutting back, anyway,” Eldrin said uncomfortably, shrugging. He wasn't here to talk about that. He didn't want to admit that he had a problem, either. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at Valka before returning his gaze to Zulkan. “Yes. He is seldom away from me these past few days. Your gift has been indispensable to me, Uncle.”

 

He decided that he couldn't stand awkwardly forever. Eldrin pulled out the chair and sat, shoving out the one beside himself with his foot to rest the bag and the shawl in the seat. He sat back with his spine straight, gripping the bottle with both gloved hands in his lap.

 

“Valka quite clumsily broke the brick you gifted me that same time, I'm sorry to say,” he said cautiously, tone more uneven than he'd hoped. He tried to smile, as if it had been a joke, but his mouth only twitched.

 

 

“They're not clumsy, as a rule,” Zulkan said absently, sipping his mazte. He surveyed Eldrin sideways, trying to decide what this was and how much he knew. Zulkan's eyes traveled to the Mazken Valka, now standing behind Eldrin and seemingly at ease as he leaned on his spear. He was looking directly at Zulkan. It was impossible to read the green-on-black eyes in the impassive purple-gray face, but he was standing very close behind the Dunmer. He had not been asked to wait by the door. He had not been dismissed.

 

_ Is Eldrin sleeping with a daedra? _

 

He had never discussed Eldrin's... proclivities... with him, but he knew that he had been seen at the Silver Scrib. There weren't many female prostitutes there. In fact, there were none, if you took the presence of a cock as an indication of maleness regardless of dress or appearance (Zulkan was old-fashioned enough to do exactly this). He had not actually factored that in when he gave Eldrin the ring. He'd assumed natural class consciousness would stop Eldrin even considering such a thing, even as he assumed filial piety would eventually drive him to marry Iluni regardless of his feelings. He was aware of Eldrin's politely concealed disapproval of his liaisons with his own servant.

 

“Anyway, I can always enchant you a new one,” Zulkan said, waving a hand dismissively. “It was just a brick I found on the pile out by Morvayn Manor. Costs nothing to replace. There's probably two dozen there, and everyone knows the widow doesn't live in that house now.”

 

Eldrin exhaled with relief, his back melding with the chair as he relaxed. So it had been a simple accident. His fingers loosened around the bottle.

 

“I don't believe that's a good idea, Uncle,” he said, speaking more easily now. “There was a... a thing embedded inside the brick. It had been giving me nightmares. You say it came from Morvayn Manor? Isn't the place cursed? You don't have anything else in your home that came from there, do you?” He leaned forward slightly, resting an arm on the table, searching Zulkan's face with clear concern.

 

“Nightmares?” Zulkan frowned with concern as he listened to Eldrin, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Have you been to the Temple? Are you all right? That is, I don't ever go inside. Just, they used to, well.” His eyes shifted away from Eldrin in a way that did not look nearly as practiced as it was. It was working; he could now afford to take his time. “They threw out the occasional thing with some worth still left in it. Bits and bobs. You know. Just laying out there in the dust pile. I think Bakes still has a cheap amulet from there I enchanted with a fire shield. You know, for kitchen work.”

 

Valka listened to their conversation silently. From the set of Eldrin's shoulders he obviously believed his uncle. There was nothing about the other mer's face or body language that suggested deception. And why would he have rendered such a gift as Valka to his nephew if he intended him harm?

 

_ When I was newly summoned I intended him harm myself, and he did not understand how to control me. It was an even chance I could have gotten him arrested for murder,  _ Valka recognized.  _ This mer knows Eldrin. He surely knows that delivering me to him was at best irresponsible. And why would he not keep or sell the ring? It is incredibly valuable. A conjurer and enchanter of Kerghed's prowess comes along only a few times in a mortal generation. _

 

_ Perhaps he wished to keep it within his clan-bond, hoped that Eldrin would learn responsibility. Isn't that more or less what is beginning to happen? _

 

_ But what about the shop under-skar? How can that possibly be a coincidence? _

 

_ Mad coincidences do happen. You know this. It is a cornerstone of religious practice. Ha. _

 

He felt misgiving. But Eldrin knew his uncle, and Valka did not. Perhaps he was jumping at shadows.

 

Eldrin averted his eyes as well, embarrassed. He had never thought Zulkan so destitute that he would need to rummage through  _ garbage _ .

 

“Yes,” Eldrin said, shifting in discomfort. “It was... It was him... The Sharmat... trying to get into my mind. But I'm fine now,” Eldrin quickly added, turning his gaze firmly back to Zulkan. “Absolutely fine. Valka broke the thing and the dreams will stop now. Are you absolutely certain nothing odd has happened to you or the slaves? You never hear whispering voices? I think you had better throw out everything that came from that house just in case.”

 

“Well, no, I haven't,” Zulkan said, eyes moving back to search Eldrin's face. “But I think you're right, it's better to be safe than sorry. I can enchant Bakes another amulet easily enough now that I've taught her to work clay a little. I've got a belt I found there, too, but I haven't worn it often. I won't miss it.”

 

Not all of this was fabrication. He  _ had  _ enchanted a cheap amulet for Bakes-Fine-Breads without telling her where he'd gotten it, but it had come from a Sleeper who was ready to surrender his material possessions and move out to the retreat at Nashurnibi. The brick had been made there, with many others like it. One or two were in fact in that same pile behind the Manor. Lady Morvayn had tried to purge the place of Sixth House influence during a brief, desperate period before she fled.

 

And now what was he to do with Eldrin? He couldn't probe whether Eldrin had gone to the shop under-skar without giving himself away...

 

“Speaking of health matters,” Zulkan said. “Are you all right? La'zira told me that J'solo from Llethri Manor told her when she was out at laundry that you fought a duel with young Sanvyn. Over some sort of rumor?”

 

Eldrin smiled, although it was more a sheepish grimace. He was glad that the issue of the brick had been resolved, but he didn't particularly want to relive that humiliating experience. At least Zulkan would not judge him for it. Older mer seemed to care a lot less about the winners and losers of duels than his own peers did.

 

“That's true... You remember me telling you that I thought Garisa Llethri had blighted my father's egg mines? Well, Sanvyn took exception to me 'spreading that around.' Can you believe his nerve? I never said anything about it, and in any case, it's not a rumor if it's true!” His hand tightened into a fist on the tabletop. “He challenged me and I met him.” The furious indignation that had been creeping into his voice receded again, and Eldrin looked aside at the wall. “He purposely picked a bad time for me, the day after I'd been drinking. That's part of the reason for, well, this.” Eldrin lifted and shook the bottle.

 

Zulkan winced sympathetically. “Damnation. No, of course if it was a matter of honor you had no choice. I'm sorry.” Eldrin had not openly said “he completely whipped me in front of all my friends,” but it was implicit. It merely confirmed what Zulkan had expected when he first had La'zira pass that rumor to the Vorfayn family's servants. Zoso would gloat over it in front of Eldrin, Eldrin would fly off the handle and fight either Zoso or Sanvyn or both, and Eldrin would either win in a way that disgraced him or lose in a way that embarrassed him, because Eldrin was a useless, irresponsible wastrel. Zulkan pitied him, had always pitied him, but he had never been blind to the facts. It was why he had cultivated the boy for so long.

 

“Well, at least you didn't make poor Elade Saschi's mistake. Even if we can't forgive and forget, revenge is never the higher path.” He watched Eldrin's face very closely as he said it. Eldrin wouldn't admit what he had done, if he had done it; but he had nowhere near the control of his own features that Zulkan had.

 

Eldrin's eyes flicked to the opposite wall and then down to his hands before meeting Zulkan's again. His palm flattened against the table and he rubbed absently at the surface with one finger.

 

“Of course not, Uncle. I'm sure that was just a rumor, anyway.” He forced out a smile and a shrug, although he could feel the guilt pressing at his shoulders. He very carefully kept his body straight. Zulkan was the last person who had something of a high opinion of Eldrin. He'd be devastated for his Uncle to be ashamed of him.

 

_ Lies.  _ Zulkan relaxed slightly as he watched Eldrin evade his gaze at first, then force himself to look back as he tried to lend plausibility to his words. So he'd done it after all.   _ Good boy. _  He might be useful yet. If his first accident story hadn't been accepted, he had planned to send Eldrin out to the retreat and be quietly rid of him, but it looked as though that might not be necessary. Now he need only pass around to the other Llethris exactly who  _ had  _ blighted the egg mines... supposedly. If young Sanvyn didn't see to it himself his sense of self-righteousness would probably prompt him to share that information with Eldrin. He was a proud mer.

 

“Good,” Zulkan said. “Well, let us hope so. I would hate to see the family divided.”

 

“How did you know it was that shop under-skar?” Valka said from behind Eldrin.

 

Zulkan looked up in startlement at the daedra, then questioningly back at Eldrin, a dark red eyebrow raised.

 

Eldrin twisted in the chair to shoot Valka a tight-lipped glare of warning before looking back at his uncle and shrugging helplessly, genuinely embarrassed.

 

“He's, well, he's always been mouthy,” Eldrin explained haltingly, eyes still widened in minor alarm. “I haven't quite found the right, er, the right words to command him best. I've ordered him not to lie and so he takes this to mean...  Well. He interrupts.” Eldrin was cringing inside as he fought to remain neutral. He'd been babbling. His own words sickened him but Eldrin couldn't process why on the spot.

 

Valka looked back with unrepentant blandness. His gut twisted for a second as he shot back to that first day.  _ Eldrin can't do anything to you. Relax. _

 

_ He could put the ring back on. _

 

_ He won't. _

 

_ Don't push your luck. _

 

“I've heard that managing a clever summoned can be a handful,” Zulkan said. He had another sip of his drink. “But Mazken aren't original thinkers, from what I've heard. Did he get that question from you?”

 

“They are very obstinate, but Mazken may be more clever than most people would give them credit for,” Eldrin said slowly. He had wondered the same thing, yes, but he certainly would not be so rude as to suggest it. As far as he was concerned the matter was cleared up.  _ My own uncle couldn't possibly... _

 

That was more of a studied non-answer than he had expected from Eldrin. Zulkan looked from Eldrin, who was obviously uncomfortable, to the impassive face of the daedra and back. It would be just his luck that Eldrin had given the creature some vague instruction like “act in my best interests.” The Mazken had none of Eldrin's history with his favorite uncle to cloud his mind, and if he was normally mouthy he would immediately be pointing out the unlikelihood of what Zulkan had said versus the likelihood that he had manipulated Eldrin from the first.

 

Even if he loathed all mortals, which it was said that many Mazken and Aureal did, it might just as likely be that he was trying to separate Eldrin from his connections for reasons of his own, and he had hit on this as a likely way to do that without either knowledge or interest regarding the reality of the situation.

 

He had been silent too long.

 

“Still, it's not an unreasonable question,” Zulkan said blandly. “You've told him to always do what's best for you or something, is that it? The answer is that I know because I'm not too proud to talk to my servants. And servants talk to each other. La'zira and Bakes-Fine-Breads wouldn't run away from me if they could, so I let them gad about town a good amount. They talk to their friends, and they have friends in every great manor in this town. And some of their friends in the greater manors have relatives in the lesser ones. And so on.”

 

That was absolutely true. In fact, it was the most factual thing he had probably ever said to Eldrin about recent events. It just wasn't how he knew about the shop under-skar.

 

Eldrin nodded.

 

“I can't remember my exact wording but yes, that's right,” he said. He was completely satisfied with the answer; he already knew it was true that his uncle didn't leash his slaves at all. And yet, why had Valka asked? He was obviously suspicious. Eldrin would have to ask him about that in private.

 

Eldrin opened his mouth to speak, and then suddenly stared past Zulkan, eyes widening. He tapped the table with his palm and twisted abruptly to look at Valka.

 

“Valka, I asked Tsamabi to send for the tailor today! Almsivi, she probably sent her assistant over. I hope he hasn't come to the house yet. How embarrassing.” He was already pushing himself out of the chair and turning to Zulkan while gathering up his things. “I'm sorry to drop in and then run like this, Uncle, but I was going to have proper clothes made for Valka. I just had to make sure that nothing bad had happened here. Promise me you'll throw away those things you got from the manor?”

 

"I give you my word," Zulkan said firmly, watching in bemusement as Eldrin scrambled to get himself together. "Off you go. You know where to find me if you need to talk."

 

"You did what?" he heard Valka say as he followed Eldrin out.

 

Yes, something had to be done. Having “proper clothes” made for a summoned servant? What in the world was he thinking, that he would treat his daedra like a thinking mer? Well, at least it showed that the statue had been with him long enough to disarrange his wits a bit. Zulkan's heart was heavy at the thought of losing Eldrin, and he admitted it to himself freely. Over the years he'd come to like the boy even if he had never proven himself worth it for one second. But he had begun to be suspicious, and his Mazken obviously was. It appeared the Mazken's influence over him was disproportionate to what Zulkan had expected.

 

_ I'm afraid it is time for Eldrin to join us, or to be ended, and for the ring to break or to be returned to me.  _ He would much rather be able to sell it or offer it to Hlavren Nazthiri, but if the Mazken was that difficult to control he might have to make the greater sacrifice.

 

“Bakes-Fine-Breads, I'm going out,” he called toward the kitchen, and went to change his clothes and get his shawl. He wouldn't have to walk far to find a beggar seeking alms who dreamed of the Master. He could probably have a note delivered the next day, when it would not seem too soon.

 

\---

 

Eldrin ignored Valka’s question until he could speak freely. He let himself out, walking briskly, although he dropped back to walk beside Valka when they were out of the house.

 

“I was going to have clothes made for you, but obviously I can't force you to accept them now. If you don't want them I'll order something for myself, although I'm sure Bivale will find it odd that I asked someone to my house when they already have my measurements,” he said. He gestured at Valka. “It's just that... This armor is clearly ridiculous. It's no good against the weather here and I don't even see how it would protect you from enemies in the Isles, either. It doesn't cover you at all. What's the point of it?”

 

Valka walked beside him in stunned silence for a second, cursing the warm feeling in his chest. He knew his face was visibly darker.  _ He was going to do it because he is embarrassed by your appearance, not because he wants you to be comfortable. Stop this. _

 

Presently he said,

 

“I don't wear it because I like it, I wear it because I was issued it, Eldrin. I would be extremely pleased to have clothing more practical for this place, but surely this is beyond your means in terms of cost?”

 

Eldrin turned to watch Valka's face when he didn't immediately reply, briefly wondering if he felt embarrassed or insulted that Eldrin had denigrated his armor. He had not meant to be confrontational. Valka was flushed.  _ Embarrassed? _ Eldrin turned his face back toward the street and waved a hand dismissively.

 

“I'm not that poor yet,” he said. “And my servants reflect on me, so it's worth the cost. The... the fabric won't be as nice as what I'm wearing,” he added stiffly, turning his face further away from Valka's eyes. Admitting that made him feel awful, but it was not very common that a servant would dress equally as well as his master. Eldrin did not want to earn a reputation as an indulgent master, and he certainly didn't want people thinking anything improper was happening between them. You could tell who was bedding their slaves if you looked closely: they had nicer clothes and jewelry, like Zulkan's Khajiit.

 

“No, of course not,” Valka said. “Appearances must be maintained, and in any case simpler clothing will be more useful in case I need to move quickly. The things you wear are not always completely practical.” He was aware of Eldrin's discomfort, but he did not share it on this particular point; in fact his complexion gradually returned to normal as he continued. “Whatever it is that you give me to wear, it probably will not be less useful than this armor.”

 

“I would have liked to get you better armor, too, but that really is beyond my means right now. Perhaps someday,” Eldrin said, looking at Valka from the side again. “You could still wear your armor over these clothes if you needed to, although I think you'll look better without. That corset divides your torso in an unflattering way, and the point draws the eye up to the center of your chest when you want the viewer to be looking at all of you. A form-fitting tunic will lead the eye down your entire body. Sometimes it's sexier to suggest rather than flaunt, you know? I mean, I get that whoever designed this was trying for seductive, but you Seducers don't seem to be particularly good at that, ironically.” Eldrin paused, realizing that Valka might take that as a personal criticism rather than a generalization about Mazken fashion.

 

“I didn't mean-- well, not that you aren't distracting. But you know what I mean,” He added quickly, flustered, turning his heated face away again.

 

Valka coughed into one gauntleted fist. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or be offended.

 

“We did not actually give ourselves that name, Eldrin,” he pointed out, voice quivering. Laughter had won out. “But thank you for trying to spare my feelings. I have been aware since we met that you do not find me physically attractive.” He spoke quietly, so that he would not be overheard by any chance passerby. “I don't think we ever discussed it, but my function in the Isles has generally been as a city guard or maintenance worker. I have never been of such rank that it would be my vocation to seduce mortals.” He thought about that. He had certainly tried to manipulate Eldrin when he had first been summoned, but Eldrin had headed him off easily enough. He had been bad at it. Gods only knew what Eldrin would have done to him if he had actually been trying to seduce him.


	17. Chapter 17

Eldrin smiled when he heard the laughter in Valka's voice. He felt a bit stupid. Of course, that was only the name mortals had given them - although it wasn't without reason, to be fair. Then his smile fell and Eldrin's eyes snapped to the ground, forehead wrinkling deeply and lips pressing together.  _ Almsivi, what do I say to that? _

 

“I.. I didn't say you weren't attractive, Valka,” he muttered.

 

“Well, that is very kind of you,” Valka said, still amused. He was aware of the uncomfortable sensations that Eldrin still caused him, but he did not associate them with physical desire. He thought he knew what that felt like. He had never wanted to hold a woman closely and keep her safe and warm. That was nothing at all to do with sex. At the moment he couldn't fathom why Eldrin felt uncomfortable unless...

 

_ It would not be appropriate,  _ he had said. Not  _ I don't want to. _

 

That made him feel less cheerful, for some reason. 

 

“Never mind. We're nearly there,” he said, his voice less expressive.

 

Eldrin was more than happy to let that topic drop. He drew himself up straight and walked in front of Valka, preparing himself once again to assume the role of “master.” He was beginning to realize that this would quickly become exhausting and almost hoped no one would be waiting for him at home.

 

But there was. A Dunmer was sitting patiently on the bench in the vestibule with a handbag beside himself and and a heavy sample book resting on his lap. He stood as Eldrin entered. He was a bit taller and older than Eldrin, early 30s perhaps, and his long white hair was held back by a very large clip shaped like a muskfly, translucent glass wings trailing down the back of his skull. He wore a black robe, sleek and form-fitting, patterned with curly shapes in a slightly lighter shade. His shawl matched the sash that began below the chest and draped from his hips almost like a kilt, gray chiffon flecked with little specks of white so that it appeared to glitter. He looked sharply up at Valka, lips parting in surprise, but then he firmly shut his mouth and turned his eyes to Eldrin.

 

“Good morning, Serjo, I'm so sorry that I made you wait. A very important matter forced me out earlier than I expected,” Eldrin quickly explained. “Valec Nerethi, isn't it?”

 

“Yes, Serjo Llethri, and do not worry a bit about it,” Valec replied, bowing with his shoulders, the book clasped in front of his waist with both hands. “I haven't been here long in any case. Please tell me, how may I assist you today?”

 

“I wanted to have clothing made for my daedra, Valka. It has to be practical. No loose bits, easy to move in. Perhaps seven sets, for now.”

 

“Of course. If you would like to pick the fabrics, while I measure him?” Valec held the book out to Eldrin, glancing up at the Mazken. He kept his face professionally neutral, although his voice was slightly tense.

 

Valka stood straight and silent behind Eldrin's shoulder as he spoke to the tailor. He looked the mer over with mild curiosity. This time he was ready for the suggestion of fear. He laid the spear against the wall by the door carefully and folded his hands, waiting for instructions with eyes on the floor.

 

Eldrin seated himself on the bench to flip through the fabric samples while the Dunmer retrieved a spool of measuring tape and a little notebook from his bag. He moved deftly, verbally prompting Valka to nudge aside here or raise his arm there. He seemed to measure every last part of the Mazken, even the girth of his bicep, jotting it all down in the notebook as he went.  Valka was completely compliant, polite even, occasionally murmuring “Yes, Serjo” when asked to move or reposition himself. The mer was less uncomfortable touching him than Eldrin was, and that felt strange. He occasionally peered curiously over Valec's shoulder as he wrote things down, making no sudden movement. It had the feeling almost of a ceremonial proceeding.

 

Eldrin felt a little uncomfortable picking out designs for someone else, but he told himself that he would be better at it, anyway. He seriously doubted Valka had any idea about fashion. Then Valec returned to put his things away in his bag, and he and Eldrin had a short discussion about which fabrics to use, which colors would look best against Mazken skin and the cost of each. Eldrin winced internally at the final price - 1600 drakes, almost all of his remaining gold -- but he couldn't back out now without seeming poor. He went down to his room briefly to bring up the payment, and Valec assured him the things would be delivered within the week.

 

1600 drakes sounded like a large amount to Valka.  His close watching of Eldrin's face did not tell him if this was true or not, but the Dunmer was carefully preserving his composure in front of a hired employee, obviously.

 

“I can honestly say this is the first time I've ever measured a daedra. I think my employer will be very amused to learn who she'll be designing for,” Valec said to Eldrin, smiling wryly as he turned to go.

 

“I'm sure the result will be masterful,” Eldrin said. “Bivale's work always is.”

 

“Indeed. Three blessings to you, Serjo Llethri. And to you as well, Valka.” The Dunmer bowed again, and Eldrin exhaled heavily when he shut the door behind him.  Then he grinned at Valka.

 

“Well, are you excited? New things always get me excited.”

 

One side of Valka’s mouth twitched upward as he looked back at Eldrin.

 

“I don't know yet,” he said. “I've never had a new thing.” He waved a hand awkwardly. “Oh, things are reissued when one is incarnated, but that's not the same.”

 

Eldrin leaned back against the door, hands behind his back. His grin dropped away.

 

“Oh,” he said flatly, eyes flicking to the wall behind Valka and then back again. “The daggers you had originally - those were issued, not somehow won?”

 

Valka sighed, looking at Eldrin's face. He'd spoiled it.

 

“They were issued. We are not suffered to keep captured Aureal weapons, and they are mostly made for use on Mazken, enchanted with frost. I was unhappy to lose them because I carried them for a long time and I was accustomed to them. No two weapons are alike.” He went to pick up the spear. “I don't mind this one. It's a good spear.”

 

“You know, there's an entire armory downstairs. Some of the pieces are ceremonial junk you wouldn't want to actually use, but there are others. It's all collecting dust. I have a shortsword that belonged my great-great grandfather Llethri, who fought alongside Vivec during the excursions into Red Mountain...” He trailed off, looking aside. He continued, softly, “You can't use that one. It wouldn't be appropriate. But there are swords, daggers, maces. If there's something you preferred, I mean.”

 

There was that word  _ appropriate _ again. If being held by a Mazken was on the same level as giving your grandfather's heirloom to a servant to carry, it must be a serious offence indeed.

 

Valka tilted his head at Eldrin, trying to read this situation, brows knit in confusion. He didn't want to make it worse.

 

“I quite like this spear,” he said. “Thank you for the offer.” He looked at the door. “Will we also go and speak with your cousin today?”

 

Eldrin sighed and dragged his palm across his face. Valka was behaving oddly, but then, Valka was  _ always  _ odd. He didn't have the time or energy to interpret that expression.

 

“Yes. Yes, I must do it. I can't put it off. Ugh. Wait here. I'll get the other... thing and we can dispose of that while we're out.” Eldrin carried his bag downstairs and came back a minute later, having emptied it out to carry the brick. He had used the cloth from the basket to wrap up both halves so that he wouldn't have to touch it with his hands. The thing was completely inert and yet even being near it made his skin crawl.

 

Eldrin knew that he ought to just throw the brick in his own trash, but he was feeling irrationally paranoid that it would be discovered. What if Tsamabi saw it? What if a beggar picked it out and it was somehow traced back to him? No, it had to be taken far away from his home. He'd either dump it into a public refuse bin or bury it. Eldrin wasn't sure yet.

 

His steps became heavier as they neared Llethri Manor. The shame, the dread were dark lumps in the pit of his belly and Eldrin almost thought that he could throw up. The great ridged ceiling under-skar seemed to be oppressively dark and foreboding that day and Eldrin eyed the door to the manor from a ducked head, hand clenched on the strap of the knapsack, jaw set.

 

He forced his spine straight as they came across the bridge. The mer at the door greeted him politely and Eldrin uttered a token greeting back, only vaguely aware of what he was saying.

 

Valka was relieved to move on to something direct and definite and not this swamp of customs and emotions that he did not understand. He followed Eldrin through town with straight back and serene features. As was becoming his custom with servants, he nodded politely to the Dunmer who opened the door for them.

 

“I need to speak with Sanvyn Llethri. Would you inform him that his cousin Eldrin is here to see him?” Eldrin said.

 

“Of course, Muthsera,” the mer said, opening the door for Eldrin and Valka to walk through first before following. “If you'll wait in the vestibule, I'll let the young master know you have come.”

 

Eldrin walked to the center of the room to stand stiffly. His face darkened when he glanced at the column he'd been pushed up against during the fight as the servant went away up the stairs. He tried to dig his nails into his palm to ground himself but the gloves prevented that, so Eldrin closed his eyes briefly and exhaled instead.  _ Quit acting like this. If Sanvyn tries to gloat, he'll feel like a fool once he finds out you've come to warn him of danger. _

 

_ Danger YOU put him in. _

 

Sanvyn Llethri was at practice in the casual dining area outside the bedrooms. J'saja had helped him roll the rugs back and now stood watching him beside a table holding a water pitcher and a cup. Sanvyn ran through his knife drills gracefully, with his face set in an expression of calm concentration. It was one of the few areas in which he knew himself to really excel. He was not clever at business; he loathed his peers, and could hardly manage the most basic social event; he could talk to a woman for at most two minutes before she started looking around for a way to escape his company. But when it was him and a weapon and the near-silence of rustling fabric, everything was simple, everything was right with the world.

 

This being the case, he was mildly annoyed when the servant came to announce his cousin.

 

“Eldrin? What in the world can Eldrin want here?” Sanvyn growled, catching the towel that J'saja threw him and wiping his face. “All right, I'll be there momentarily.” If Eldrin thought he was going to change into formal clothes just to enjoy the commencement of another quarrel, he had another thing coming. His shabby gray practice tunic and wraps would have to suffice. His hair was caught back in a loose tail, no real attention to it when he was planning for no one to see him.

 

Eldrin was dressed to show himself off. Of course. Sanvyn writhed internally as he realized how badly he was outshone. Outwardly he stalked down the stairs with composure and came to stand in front of his cousin with arms folded.

 

“To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Eldrin?” he asked with cold politeness. Behind him, the old Khajiit took up station at the bottom of the stairs, muzzle lifted to sniff the air. Yellow eyes rested impassively on Valka. Valka dipped his head.

 

Eldrin's jaw tightened as he attempted not to look away from Sanvyn's eyes. He kept his face as neutral as he possibly could, although he could not hide the tension in his shoulders. Sanvyn didn't have to gloat openly; Eldrin imagined he could feel contempt and smug superiority oozing from beneath his cousin's cold mask.

 

“I'm not here to draw you into another argument, if that's what you're thinking. This - this is something important I have to tell you,” Eldrin said haltingly. His eyes flicked away and it took every ounce of willpower to draw them back. Shoving out these words was the most difficult thing he had ever done and Eldrin knew that he was acting oddly, but he hoped Sanvyn would attribute that to embarrassment rather than a poor attempt at deceit. “I found something in my room, that is, under my bed. Something that had been planted. It was...” Here he lowered his voice, even though there was no one else to overhear aside from their servants.  “ - Something that belonged to the Sixth House, embedded in an urn. It was making me soul sick, trying to control my mind. I don't know who did it or why, but it could be that our entire family is being targeted. That's the only reason I'm here. To warn you.”

 

He finished with a long and silent exhalation and studied Sanvyn's face carefully for a reaction.

 

Sanvyn blinked twice as he listened to this, cold and haughty mask cracking into actual startlement, then suspicion, then uncertainty.

 

“This is some sort of prank, then, is it?” he said suspiciously. “So you can go tell all your friends you got one over on me by making us hunt through the Manor looking under all the beds?”

 

Behind Eldrin, Valka shook his head, eyes still on the Khajiit's.

 

“No,” Eldrin ground from a clenched jaw, narrowing his eyes. “I would very much appreciate it if you would be silent about this, as will I. No one needs to know. If you don't believe me that's on you. I tried.”

 

Sanvyn's eyes skimmed Eldrin's face searchingly. He knew reading other people's faces wasn't one of the things he was best at, but Eldrin didn't  _ seem  _ like he was trying not to laugh.

 

“All right,” he said slowly. “Thank you for your warning. I'll have the servants look into it.”

 

Behind him, near the stairs, the elderly betmer nodded imperceptibly. He was still looking at Valka.

 

“Good,” Eldrin said, sighing with true relief, but he hardened his face then; couldn't let Sanvyn think he gave too much of a damn what happened to him or his family. “That's all I came for... Good-bye, Sanvyn.” He turned away to let himself out, very carefully controlling his gait so that he didn't appear to hurry.

 

_ There. I undid the deed and now my humiliation was all for nothing, and Garisa will get away with ruining my father, _ Eldrin thought sourly as he lead Valka toward home. He could wait until he had Iluni's wealth at his disposal to come up with some sort of revenge that would probably take years to execute, but that seemed so incredibly exhausting. Maybe Uncle Zulkan had been right: revenge was never the higher path.  _ Or is that something the poor and the cowardly say to console themselves because they are powerless to do otherwise? _ Eldrin didn't know and he wished he no longer possessed the ability to care.

 

Eldrin stopped off in the poorer section of town to shake out his bag into a crate of trash shoved up against the side of a tavern, hissing at Valka to make sure no one was watching. No one was looking and no one cared, and finally the nightmare was truly over and Eldrin was left with the same mundane problems he'd had before. He felt better about the whole situation for a total of ten minutes.

 

They passed by the Cat's Paw Cornerclub on the way home. It was too early yet for his friends to be there, but it made Eldrin think of Teris and that much was all it took for the wound to reopen. Eldrin's gaze drifted soberly to the ground for the rest of the walk, lids drooping. The world had no color to it without Teris, and how could Eldrin ever face him again?

 

“I'm not going anywhere else today, Valka, so I suppose you can do as you please,” Eldrin said quietly when they entered the foyer. He was not aware that sadness weighted his voice. Valka never seemed to want anything in particular, let alone time for himself, but Eldrin wanted to be alone to feel his grief in private. “You can read any of our books and you can move freely downstairs or in the dining area, just don't go into my father's rooms on the left, all right? And try to behave as if... as if everything is normal should he address you.”

\---

 

As soon as they had gone Sanvyn turned to J'saja.

 

“Find out,” he said. “Be as discreet as possible. I know it's a stupid request, but we have to check.”

 

“It is not stupid at all,” J'saja said. “The young one should return to his practice. This one will run about and if there are things to be found, he will find them, yes.” He bowed and turned to mount the stairs.

 

He was serious about it. He hadn't called Sanvyn “youngling” since he was ten years old. The Dunmer stared after him, then shook his head quickly and went back to his knives.

 

It took J'saja and his chosen assistant a couple of hours to go through the house looking under all the beds and in all the closets. They found a couple of different things that didn't belong. One turned out to be a skooma pipe belonging to a maid, one turned out to be a jar full of what J'saja straight-facedly described to Sanvyn as “oblong objects for a lady's use,” and one was a sealed urn suspiciously stuffed under Garisa Llethri's bed among the linen bags. The old servant brought this to Sanvyn when he had finished washing up and changing.

 

Sanvyn turned the urn over carefully in his hands. It had a religious scene on it. Surely the Sixth House wouldn't? Perhaps he was meant to think so. As he held it in his hands he felt the hairs rise along the back of his neck for a second, but the feeling quickly passed. He took a belt knife, not one of his finer daggers, and ran it around the cap under the rim. The lid came free after a couple of seconds, scattering red wax.

 

It was half-full of... sand? Ashes? A statue stuck up out of the middle of them, rounded, made of some black stone with red paint over it. There were daubs of something else on it as well, rust-colored fading to black.

 

“J'saja, what does this smell like?” he asked. The Khajiit was wrinkling his nose.

 

“Ashes, Master Sanvyn, ashes and old blood from a Dunmer.”

 

“It  _ is  _ Sixth House,” he whispered. “J'saja, who knows about this?”

 

“J'saja knows, and Dra'ziji. Dra'ziji keeps her mouth shut, yes.”

 

“Show this to my father before it is destroyed. He should know that they're trying to target us as well as the lesser branch of the family. Perhaps the rumor that we sabotaged their mines is meant to divide us.” It annoyed him that he'd fallen for it so easily, if that was the case. Eldrin was always such an ass, he'd probably just accepted whatever he was told if someone claimed in his hearing that Garisa's people had blighted their kwama.

 

“One will see that he knows,” J'saja said, as Sanvyn jammed the lid back on the urn and handed it to him.

 

“I want this thing to be  _ dust,  _ do you understand?”

 

“He understands, Master Sanvyn. It will be done.”

 

\---

 

“Rest if you can,” Valka told him quietly. “I know that the weight on you is heavy.” He touched Eldrin's shoulder gently and went away to find Tsamabi. Helping with the chores would occupy some time, probably provide him with some new and exotic and horrible food preparation method of mysterious purpose and odoriferous ends, and then he would tuck himself into the little library with a copy of the  _ Homilies of Blessed Almalexia,  _ walking about the room as he read. If he should run into Eldrin's father, he could plausibly claim Eldrin had wished him to learn more of the Dunmer religion. That was true, as far as he knew.

 

The warmth on his shoulder lasted until Eldrin had reached his bedroom. There he moped for the rest of the evening lying upside-down on his bed with his feet on the pillows, staring despondently up at the ceiling while he thought of Teris. When he'd exhausted all his tears he thought of the shop under-skar and how he had so stupidly aided Sixth House cultists. Then he lamented how awful it was to always be sober. And then he thought of Valka.

 

The night Valka had been set free, he had offered to brush Eldrin's hair without being asked.  _ I would like to hold you, _ he had said even when Eldrin wore the ring. At the time, Eldrin had been too upset over Sanvyn and Teris to really think about what these comments might have meant. He didn't understand why Valka seemed to suddenly care.

 

Valka had been used by everyone he'd ever known, apparently. The women used him for sex, the men for favors. Perhaps he was starved for any sort of physical contact that wasn't the demand of another, that did not hide ulterior motives, that was a thing he chose himself. He must be incredibly lonely to offer this to his own tormentor.

 

That particular pain, that desperate loneliness, was something Eldrin could understand. He himself wanted very badly to be held by someone he could never have. Valka may not have had a specific person in mind, but it would hurt all the same.

 

_ I can't have Teris. But there is someone here who offers me touch and he isn't being paid or ordered to do it. And perhaps if I return the comfort he offers me, some small part of whatever pain he is feeling will be eased. He deserves that much. _

 

_ But then, how can I be sure Valka actually wants that, that he's as lonely as I think? I'm ascribing mortal feelings to a non-mortal. Four hundred years alone might be like a day to him. He was only offering to hold me because he saw that I was upset. If I make any sort of move at him he might feel required to reciprocate to appease me. He is free but he doesn't act free. _

 

_ Why am I thinking these things to begin with? Shouldn't I feel disgusted?  _ Eldrin had pulled the necklace out of his shirt and he held the ring up to the light, watching green and purple light shift across the spiny black metal. He wondered if Valka would be able to feel it if Eldrin slipped the ring onto his finger. Then he felt guilty for thinking such a thing and let the ring drop against his chest. He was so confused. He wanted to stop thinking.

 

Eldrin composed himself long enough to accept dinner from Valka, awkwardly averting his gaze from the Mazken until he had gone, but as soon as he finished the meal Eldrin poured himself a glass of sujamma. Valka would lecture him if he saw, Eldrin felt. But Valka didn't understand. He was only having enough to make himself fuzzy, so that he could sleep and not think. He wasn't getting fall-down drunk or anything like that.

 

It didn't have the effect Eldrin wished it to. Being drunk only made him feel lower, weepy. He fell asleep in his clothes, but he did sleep, deep and dreamless as far as he could remember when he woke the next day. He didn't even have a hangover and the problems of yesterday were suddenly distant, at least for now.

 

\---

 

Eldrin didn't want to talk when Valka brought his dinner, didn't even look at him. Valka's eyes searched his face, but he didn't seem angry, only downcast, sad. Valka left him there quietly and withdrew.

 

When the dishes were done and he had had a wash, he went alone to the library, pacing back and forth slowly in front of the shelves. Here he had time to think without Eldrin there to confuse him.

 

He had despised Eldrin. Probably other people had as well. But he could not help but pity his suffering. The Dunmer had tried to do what was right by his own lights, as best he knew from the guidance of his faith. Valka now thought that his presentation of that theology might be a bit suspect as regarded the original intent, but he did not believe Eldrin to be insincere, only shallow and misguided. His earliest cruelty was not justified by the writings Valka had seen; but it would not be the first time someone had talked themselves into something that wasn't quite right and then tried to fix it and instead made it worse.

 

And now he was confronted with virtue in one of its harder guises, trying to set right a wrong he had done at the same time as he tried to rid himself of a physical evil. Alcohol was addictive; that ailment was if anything known more in Dementia than in Mania and Valka had seen it more than once. And Eldrin had lost the desperate illusion that had bound him to Teris at the same time. Valka could only see that as a good thing, but that did not make Eldrin's pain less real. He was surprised to learn that he ached for Eldrin as if the ill had been his own, something that he had very seldom felt for another being and never acted upon. You couldn't pity the mad. They might not be unhappy for long, and in any case if you got too close trying to comfort one they might stab you and then you might, just for example, bleed out in an alley, lose your third incarnation and end up stationed back in the sewers again.

 

But a sane person ought to be able to be shepherded on their way to making their life a better one. A sane person could reasonably be protected from other people on the assumption that they were safe from themselves. Sometimes. Possibly. Or why was he still here? He didn't have the needs that Eldrin had.

 

If only Eldrin hadn't made him sort his hair that first time, all of this would be so much easier. Touch. Touch was as addictive as wine. He craved more of it. He mulled over in his mind other ways he might have it without making things between himself and Eldrin worse and more complicated, making a fool of himself when Eldrin had already made his own wishes clear.

 

Not Tsamabi. That would be unfair to her when he had nothing else to offer her. Besides, why should she be even a bit interested? She had feared him at first and still viewed him as something of a novelty.

 

He could go back to the Isles and offer himself to an officer on some pretext or other. Someone low-ranking and a bit dim, who wouldn't question it much. He gave that serious consideration. He wouldn't harm another Mazken by accident, and there would be no risk of emotionally damaging someone who was simply using him for sex.

 

But he didn't  _ want  _ to be just... used. He had always accepted that as what his life was like. He wanted to hold someone closely and feel that they were better for him being there. Even if it was just for a little while. He gave serious consideration even to looking for one of the mad, despite the risks. They had certainly propositioned him often enough, but he was not required to accede to those requests and so he never had. Could someone whose mind was deranged really consent to be held by him? He thought not. Then he would be the one using someone.

 

Still. He was a servant among servants here. Perhaps in time there would be someone to whom he would be accessible, who could reasonably say yes and no, who would at least sincerely want him for a while. He could be patient. With this he was obliged to be content. He walked quietly through the dark house in the hours approaching morning, and when the opaque glass windows began to grow lighter he went down to take up his post outside Eldrin's room, no happier, but more resigned.


	18. Chapter 18

That morning, a beggar knocked at the door and leave a rolled letter for Eldrin. It was not someone Tsamabi had seen before, a ragged woman with dark hair mostly covering her face. 

 

“Good morning, Valka,” Tsamabi said as she came down the stairs with a tray in her hands. The letter protruded from beneath a plate of eggs. She stopped in front of the door, glancing hesitantly at Valka as she considered asking him to take the tray in for her... but Eldrin had not come crawling home in the early hours these past couple days, so he was probably not drunk and irritable.

 

“Master Eldrin's breakfast is here,” Tsamabi said to the door.

 

“All right,” came the muffled reply, and after a moment Eldrin opened the door for her in his rumpled clothes, mussed hair falling over one shoulder. He seemed unusually well-rested to Tsamabi.

 

“A letter came while Master slept; Tsamabi leaves it here. It was brought by a beggar-woman. She left no name,” The Khajiit explained as she sat down the tray. Eldrin frowned and released the door, coming over to the table to pick up the letter in question. He turned it in his hands looking for some indication of what it might be. Another request from Iluni? He glanced up at the open door and the Mazken standing just outside.

 

“Do you want to come in, Valka?” He asked, dropping into a chair with the letter in hand to pick open the wax seal. Tsamabi saw that she would not be further addressed so she dipped her head to Eldrin and backed out. As she passed Valka she caught his eye with the corner of her own and smiled very slightly in a knowing way.

 

Valka nodded back to Tsamabi. He didn't know what the smile was about, but he lifted one corner of his mouth in return anyway. He didn't want to scare her away when things had been going so well.

 

“Yes, I do,” he said to Eldrin.  He moved to lean his back against the wall inside the door, hands on the spear. 

 

The missive was sealed with red wax and the image of a beetle, and inside it said,

 

_ Eldrin: _

 

_ Your uncle didn't tell you everything. Come to Nashurnibi and learn the truth. A mile West of the Silt Strider platform you will see a spire of rock with three tines like a fork. The cavern door is hidden in a tangle of vines below. _

 

_ A friend _

 

The handwriting was blocky and peculiar, not recognizable as belonging to anyone he knew.

 

Eldrin sucked in a sudden breath as he read the unfurled paper, brows furrowing in a mixture of confusion and dread. The hairs on the back of his neck raised with that prickling beetles-under-the-skin sensation. He held out the note to the Mazken. “Valka... read this. What does this mean?” His mind jumped to the cultists under-skar. Had they been watching him? Was it a trick? Or had one of his uncle's slaves sent this note?

 

Valka watched Eldrin reading curiously, then frowned as he watched the Dunmer's face change. He accepted the note carefully, eyes moving as he read it.

 

“Obviously someone wants to trap you in a remote location,” he said.

 

“And whoever it is must be watching me, so if I go to the guards they will know it,” Eldrin said, leaning heavily back and bracing his arms against the rests of the chair. He frowned at his plate for a moment before glancing back up to Valka.

 

“I don't understand this. No one has any reason to wish me harm. Perhaps the people at the shop, but they didn't even know my name...”

 

“Your uncle does,” Valka said.  He set his jaw, tensing slightly; he probably shouldn't have said it that way, but it was said.

 

Eldrin glared up at Valka, but then his eyes lowered to the table again and his expression slowly crumpled to one of despair. He stared at nothing for a long time, and then he pulled the plate of eggs toward himself. He felt sick. He wasn't hungry in the slightest, but he was about to have a long walk ahead of him.

 

“I can't believe that,” Eldrin said quietly, cutting off a piece of egg with his fork. “But I have to go. What else can I do? If I get help from someone, this person, people... whoever it is... will scatter and find some other way to get at me. At least I can come prepared.”

 

Valka stiffened, but held his ground, and then he felt wrung as he watched Eldrin seem to shrivel. His brows knit under the helmet guard.

 

“Yes,” he said. “I will go with you, and we will be very careful.”

 

He was resolved, whatever might happen, to keep Eldrin alive. No matter what things ended up being in the future, at least he would not watch that precious mortal life wink out in front of him  until old age stole it . He did not like the idea of erasing others to ensure Eldrin's survival, but if they were what the voices had wanted him to become, mindless obedient slaves? That was not being alive. Perhaps there was still some place after that would be better for them than that. He knew it was a sophist thing that he was telling himself, but it was all he had to go from at the moment. He needed Eldrin to live, and flourish, and recover from this, and some day meet a nice mer who... would probably also be married by that point, but maybe they could work something out. This society seemed complicated enough to support that.

 

Eldrin ate somberly, trying not to liken himself to a convict enjoying his last meal before an execution. Then he bathed and dressed himself in his bonemold armor. He would bring his spear to use as a primary weapon with his tanto as a backup. Eldrin's illusions about his own abilities had been shattered and he knew that he'd be relying on Valka to save him from anything truly dangerous, but at least that weapon had good reach and blocking ability.

 

Eldrin stopped at the Temple before heading out of town.  This time he asked Valka to wait at the door.  He came back with three potions: two of healing, and one of Almsivi Intervention. He explained its use to Valka with a wry smile.

 

“If it is a trap, at least I'll have this to escape with, and I can bring you back with the ring,” he said, tucking them into his belt pouch. He glanced warily about himself as they moved through town, searching for anyone who might be trailing them. There didn't seem to be, but anyone could use the same invisibility trick Eldrin and Valka had used.

 

“Good,” Valka said. He memorized which bottle was which with great care as it was explained. If he had to he could toss one down Eldrin's throat and either fight his way out or be briefly discorporated. They would still be in the situation Eldrin had feared, that his enemy would know he knew them and return to attack later, but at least the Dunmer would be alive.

 

And they were off under the strange blue-and-gray sky again. Valka wrapped the shawl over his face against the rising wind and pressed on behind Eldrin, looking around himself to try and remember the landmarks that they passed.  If it wasn't the midst of a sandstorm it would not be hard to navigate back to Ald'ruhn.

 

It had been a clear morning, but dark clouds hung over Red Mountain and the wind was already picking up, prompting Eldrin to lower his visor against the smattering of ash the occasional gust would hurl at his eyes. It wasn't a very long walk, and Eldrin recognized the rock formation mentioned in the letter. Gradually it grew from a fork into a wall of rock as they neared the base of it, and then they were sheltered from some of the wind. A curtain of thick, curling trama vines trailed down from a shelf several feet over their heads and Eldrin paced along the wall until he came to an old weathered door set in the stone.

 

He was frowning inside his helm, heart pounding against his breastbone. A cold sweat stuck his armor padding to his skin.

 

“I hate to ask this, Valka, but you should go in first,” Eldrin said stiffly. That was a cowardly thing to say, but Valka couldn't truly die.

 

The vines reminded Valka of the Isles, of the old growths of swamp tentacle and thorn hook in the caves of Dementia. He glanced curiously at Eldrin as he reached for the door.

 

“Of course,” he said. “Why would you go first? I will never die.”

 

He stood there by the open door for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness inside, poised on the balls of his feet inside his boots. No spear came flying at his head, no hiss of an arrow or bolt was heard from within. Valka nudged the door open enough to allow Eldrin to enter behind him and slipped inside.

 

There were growths of luminous blue and purple mushrooms whose names he did not know. They cast a very dim light near to the entrance, clustered around a small pool of water. Beyond the irregular walls of the cavern twisted and bent around a corner out of sight, and from beyond came a dim red glow, flickering as the light of small fires. A smell of both cooked and rotting flesh assailed his nostrils, layered with the stink of ashes and unwashed bodies and something strange and bitter that he could not identify – incense? There was a low and distant sound of chanting voices.

 

Eldrin froze when he stepped into the dark. The dim red light, the chanting voices, it was too much like his dreams and for a moment terror gripped him, rational thought grinding to a halt. Then he remembered to breath.  _ It is the Sixth House cultists. _ He was completely sure.

 

That meant it was not his uncle behind this. That meant whoever was lurking around the corner was an enemy, without a doubt. Eldrin had grown pale beneath the helm but he steeled himself and stepped forward, raising his left hand. An effervescent ball of light rose from his palm, bathing the walls and the lichen in its pale green glow.

 

Valka moved forward, turning the spear once in his hand, setting his feet as carefully as he could. The ground underfoot felt damp and a little slithery under his boots: damp, muddy stone and gravel. Some sort of plate-sized round lichen grew here and there, barely green and red, almost as black as the walls, and it was slick when he couldn't avoid stepping on it.

 

From around the corner came a furtive female voice.

 

“Is it Eldrin Llethri? Quiet, hurry! We haven't much time!”

 

“Identify yourself,” Eldrin said through clenched teeth as he followed Valka around the bend.

 

 

Around the corner, the tunnel opened out into a larger chamber, the roof gently dripping water into shallow troughs in the stone around the edges. Two more openings led off at peculiar angles, presumably the result of natural formation more than merish intervention. The chanting seemed to chiefly come from the left side. The smell of rot and body odor was pervasive and impossible to focus directionally; but some of the scent of burning flesh came from in front of them.

 

A fire had been built of piled sticks and irregular vines and scraps of wood. It blackened the ceiling above, smoke streaming out to the edges of the room and vanishing upward into vents that were blocked by the cloud. Niches were carved into the walls, and every one held at least one crimson candle. They gave off the sickly bitter scent more strongly as one drew nearer, and up close it grew more heady and dizzying. The fire itself seemed to change color oddly between red and orange and shades of blue, as though something chemical had been tossed into it as well. Up close there were irregular chunks of something that was definitely not wood.

 

A figure dressed in a ragged tan robe, the hem dark with mud or blood or ash, stood with hands out to the fire. She was a gaunt Dunmer who, upon close inspection, was actually quite young, her hair a tangled mess around her face. Her nails were ragged and her eyes were puffy and dark around the edges. She paused with uplifted hand as she stared at Valka. He stopped on the other side of the fire, spear in both hands, watching the tunnels from the corners of his eyes.

 

“You... you DO have a Mazken. I've never seen one. That is, you've come about your uncle, right? I'm Kazi Deghenu. I can get you inside if you want to see what he's really been doing. He's in there now.” Her voice was a harsh whisper.

 

Eldrin gently tossed the ball of magicka, letting it roll against the wall. Even with a second light source the fire was overpowering, and Eldrin kept his eyes above it, on the woman's face, to keep from blinding himself. He came to stand beside Valka when he stopped, leveling his spear at the mer.

 

“How about you tell me from here or I run you through?” he growled with much more bravado than he actually felt.

 

The other Dunmer backed away, hands raised. “Please, Serjo. I only want to help you. The family of Narave were of the Sixth House from the very beginning. They wandered away when the House was shattered, fled as many fled, but over time many chose to return. Zulkan was one who came back to his House after the death of his wife, and he has served well since that day, spreading the Dream through Ald'ruhn and wherever he has traveled for his work. Now he communes with his brothers and sisters as they chant in the Dream, singing to their Lord.” She pointed toward the left tunnel. “There. If you follow the upper path when it diverges you can see without being seen. There is a ledge. I will go ahead of you if you wish!”

 

Eldrin's eyes flicked briefly aside at Valka, though his head didn't move and he couldn't see the Mazken. It was only a nervous reflex. He opened his mouth, closed it again. He wanted to warn her against slandering his family, but there was no point in that.

 

And a part of him almost believed her.

 

“Yes. Go ahead. We'll follow,” he said, voice coldly level.

 

Valka's face was stern, set. He turned to follow the Dunmer as she scooted down the left tunnel, turning to look over her shoulder at them with wide, frightened eyes. There were a couple of niches with red candles here as well, and blunt stalagmites with candles planted atop them, but the light they gave was dim and red and dreadful.

 

The tunnel split ahead of them, one path leading down the natural slope of the cavern and one up a wooden walkway that looked older than Eldrin. Kazi led them upward, going slowly and wincing at each creak of the rickety structure. Valka put his feet as carefully as he could, still looking around them for traps. The sound of chanting grew louder up ahead, the red light brighter. The stink of rot and sickness only got worse.

 

The stairs did indeed pass into a higher passage of the cave, and that opened up into a broad wooden ledge. The actual stone portion over which they passed was fairly narrow compared to the wooden platform ahead. It overlooked a larger chamber, stalactites and stalagmites almost meeting around the edges; some smaller tables or platforms looked as though they had been carved from others of these. Stone troughs were arranged in a semicircle around a dais. On the dais was what looked like a set of chimes with a hammer leaning against one end, made of blackened metal with red inlays. The red candles were uncountable here, all over every flat surface and the step of the dais and even stuck onto some of the troughs. It was hard to tell what the troughs held from fifteen feet up, but it looked paler than the black stone. Valka had the revolting sensation that he knew what it was.

 

Black statuettes stood arranged around the dais as well, facing out into the room. And in the midst of them stood a creature in a brown robe embroidered with sickly green designs, beetles and vines and words in a script Valka did not know. The creature's upraised hands were Dunmer, though the skin looked clammy, pale, dead; but the head seemed to bulge upward from its shoulders without the intervention of a neck, a wet glistening gray dome half-covered by a dull purple hood obviously sewn just for it. Its face had no nose or mouth or eyes. There were four black orifices arranged roughly where eyes should be, but the room's dim light could not plumb them. And below that hung podded tentacles like those of a dreugh, swinging rhythmically as it silently led the chant.


	19. Chapter 19

Around the dais stood ten people in gray robes, their hands uplifted as they chanted and sang. All had the hands of Dunmer. They were not ragged like Kazi. Eight had hair was dressed in the fashion of Dunmer of middle and upper class, braided, coiled; their robes were intact and embroidered like that of the monstrosity in front of them. Each had a club made of thorny trama wood belted to their hip. They seemed to be of different ages, but it was hard to tell from yards away in the dark.

 

Two had no hair at all, and as they swayed their heads to and fro it was evident that they had no faces, just a caved black hollow in the front of each gray skull. Their ears were perfect and intact. Valka regretted that he had noticed it.

 

Kazi pointed with a trembling hand at a stocky man who stood farthest from them, next to one of the faceless creatures. His back was to them, but his hair was the right color. She cowered back against the cave wall, unwilling to go out onto the platform, but it was nearly impossible to see without doing so.

 

Eldrin stepped as lightly as he could, cringing at every creak of the wood under his heavy boots.  He crept tentatively forward on the platform in a half-crouch, but he froze when his eyes swept across the monstrosities below.  He recognized the Sleeper immediately; what Dunmer child had not been told of the distorted servants that lived beyond the Fence?  It was not very like the illustrations he had seen, but there was absolutely nothing else of the face of Nirn that it could be.  

 

His eyes darted rapidly from body to body, from the regular people no one would bat an eye at if met on the street to the eyeless, sunken faces.   _ This could have been me!   _ Eldrin was suddenly lightheaded and he dropped to one knee, gripping his spear with both hands to steady himself.  He did not need Kazi's assistance to pick out his own uncle; the hair was right, the shape of his body familiar.

 

Eldrin pushed himself up and turned, waving the others back urgently.  His body was unnaturally light with adrenaline, hands soaked inside his gloves, heart drumming furiously in his ears.

 

“Go,” he hissed.  “I've seen enough!”

 

Valka was still scanning those below, trying to decide how a Dunmer had become either of the monstrosities he saw without the intervention of a clever madman with surgical tools. He saw no stitches. Eldrin's taut voice drew his eyes, which is why he did not see Kazi slapping frantically at a spot on the wall that looked like all the others. The platform suddenly tilted under Eldrin's feet even as he moved, tipping steeply toward the cavern floor below.

 

“VaAALK!” Eldrin yelped as the floor beneath his feet tilted away and he slammed onto his chest. He released the spear, fingers groping for a handhold but the spaces between the slats were too narrow for him to jam his fingers into. He slid, bonemold scraping against wood, and for one terrifying second he was falling freely with nothing beneath his boots and nothing for his hands to grasp onto while Valka and the stalactites overhead above fell away. The spear hit the ground first with a metallic twang that echoed in the cavern and then Eldrin hit with twin cracks, first his booted foot and then his back as he crumpled. Pain shot up from his right leg through his entire body with such intensity that he blacked out momentarily, and then he screamed.

 

Valka spun, looked down, looked back at Kazi:  _ she has no weapon, but she may know spells that can be thrown from here. _

 

He took a swift step and skewered the Dunmer through the chest with one stroke even as she tried to back away, snuffing a mortal life without a second thought. She had not stopped twitching when he spun and hopped over the edge, boots striking splinters as he slid down the steep slope, and then he was falling, holding the spear out to one side as his toes reached out for the ground. He touched down, rolled, came up to one knee beside Eldrin's crumpled body. For a heart-stopping instant he thought the Dunmer was dead, his neck surely broken as well as the foot that was turned at a dreadful angle, and then Eldrin jerked and screamed as he came to.

 

The people in robes were already moving, hems flying as half of them ran for the doorway off to their left and the other half backed away from Valka and Eldrin. Valka slapped a hand down on Eldrin's foot, jerked it into the correct alignment, and released magicka even as the tentacled monstrosity in front of them glided to the edge of the dais and raised its gray hands. The tentacles lifted to show a bubbling black orifice, dripping with slime. A purulent green glow lit from within and began to grow and grow until it lit the room with a dreadful ochre light. The eyeless mer-eared monstrosities were moving toward them slowly, clubs in their hands.

 

Eldrin's vision blackened momentarily and he almost passed out again from the agony of his foot twisting back into place, but just as quickly as it had happened he was mended by a powerful heal. Valka, he realized through the fast-clearing fog. He pushed himself up and stumbled backward against the ledge, panting raggedly in terror. He scanned the group before him for his uncle's face as he reached for the potions hanging from his belt. His fingers twitched and jittered so that he could hardly maneuver them into the bag, but then his hand closed around the correct bottle. He knew it for its fat stem.

 

Zulkan was there, standing back with the four who had remained, two to either side of the intruders. His face bore an expression of regret, brows drawn together and pupils small while those around him were wide-eyed and dilated with rapture.

 

Valka was not looking at him. He was looking at the creature in front of them, momentarily slow to realize what was happening. As the enormous fast-moving cloud of glowing, venomous magicka roared from the monster's mouth he whirled and shoved Eldrin against the wall, interposing his body between them.

 

“Go!” he breathed in Eldrin's ear, and then he braced his arms against the wall on either side of the Dunmer as the magicka hit. The impact was tremendous, like being smashed by a giant hand, but he gritted his teeth and stiffened his trembling legs, and they held. It caused him little pain. Mazken are very resistant to poison even as the Aureal are very resistant to frost. It distressed him much more to see it splash against the wall around him and flow inward toward Eldrin.

 

The potion was in his hand and out of the bag when Valka whirled on him, and before Eldrin could really process what was happening he felt a sting on his arms as magicka sank through his armor and down to his skin. Pure agony burned him from within, flowing up his arms to his brain and down his spine to his legs, fire in his veins. His fingers convulsed around the bottle and it clunked down against the stone floor, rolling away. Eldrin tried to scream but only groaned breathlessly, his helmet knocking against the wall as he twitched in place.

 

The faceless creatures split to come up on either side of them, the mer on Valka's left raising his club to strike the Mazken's helmed head from behind.

 

_ No! _

 

Eldrin saw the Mazken's face twist in horror from very close in front of him, and then Valka was knocked sideways by the stroke of a club. His helmet softened the blow, but he felt throbbing pain in the back of his head, sparks in front of his eyes, and then his pauldron knocked against something yielding and the stink of rot and ashes filled his nose. He struck out in front of him with the spear and his vision cleared to show him one of the eyeless monstrosities writhing impaled on the spear point. He kicked straight backward at the other he knew was creeping up from behind, forcibly freeing the spear so that he could spin back to lay a healing hand on Veldrin's chest.

 

He had no spell that could cure poison. Eldrin had no potion that could. And now he had dropped the potion of Almsivi Intervention, and Valka could not grab it and administer it and fight off two attackers at once.

 

Beyond this, the cultists were still watching, arms upraised as they swayed to and fro. They had taken up the chant again. The monster on the platform also stood with arms upraised, silent, apparently unwilling to cast another spell at its minions.

 

Valka's boot caught the creature square on the chest and he flew back, slamming into a stalagmite with a muted, throaty grunt -- the monster might not have a mouth, but the vocal chords worked -- with enough force to snap the thin tip of the spire.

 

Eldrin was vaguely aware of a tingle of magicka passing through his body as internal damage wrought by the poison was healed, but it did nothing to stop the pain. His face had contorted under his helm, eyes rolling up and frothy spittle pushing from his lips as his tongue twitched with the rest of his body. He was sliding sideways down the wall, unable to hold himself up, unable to stop the convulsions. The world was contracting all around him, fading. He distantly realized he could not breathe, but the agony quickly overwhelmed every other thought.

 

The creature Valka had impaled through the belly was not dead, or had never been alive. Only ashes poured from the wound as it lumbered forward toward him with the club upraised. Valka seized Eldrin's collar, easing his downward slide to the floor, and rested his hand on top of the Dunmer's head to heal him again. He took another blow of the club on his pauldron as he ducked his head and raised his shoulder, then jabbed with the spear butt at the ashy thing's chin. As it staggered back he stabbed it again, this time in the chest, and whirled to confront the other one again with upraised weapon. With his free hand he healed Eldrin yet again.

 

The ash creature finally crumpled to the ground, ash and dust pouring from its wounds in one final gout.  The one that had fallen had gained its feet and ran at Valka with club raised, bare foot unwittingly kicking the bottle on the floor. It bounced off a stalagmite and rolled further away to wedge itself in a crevice between the jagged wall and floor of the cave.  Valka winced as if struck as he heard the bottle hit, but it didn't break. He knew where it was. He only had to get it!

 

With every heal Eldrin felt himself pull back toward reality but then he sank just as quickly under a tide of pain. The searing agony began to subside as the contractions slowed. Finally he was able to suck in air and the darkening world around him exploded with color, but it wasn't enough. He still could not pick himself up, could do nothing but twitch uselessly while his helm filled up with foam.

 

The monster was coming after him again now, but it was alone. Valka stepped forward with curled upper lip –  _ you will keep me from what I want, you? -  _ and whirled the spear in a fluid arc. The ashy undead's head bounced away behind it as the body continued to stagger forward, swinging the club blindly for several seconds. Valka sidestepped and kicked it in the hip, and it finally fell kicking and twitching and did not get up.

 

“The ring.” It was Zulkan's voice, heavy, unhappy, but raised to be clear and audible. “Take the ring from Eldrin's hand and we control the daedra.”

 

Valka realized too late that he was too far away from Eldrin, who still sat helpless against the wall, and then the four Dunmer surged forward to divide them, two swinging clubs at him desperately as Zulkan and a young and strikingly beautiful woman whose face Eldrin knew (she was the daughter of a wealthy Temple priest) scrambled to their knees to grab at Eldrin's gauntlets.

 

For a moment there was nothing between Valka and the tentacled monstrosity, and the skirt of arms lifted again and spat a glob of green magicka - smaller, denser than the last - at his unprotected back. He didn't see it. He only knew that suddenly he had no use of his limbs and was toppling backward. The Dunmer were on him immediately, clubs bashing at his unprotected chest and upper legs. They struck with meaty, damp impacts, and he felt something crack inside his chest, but he was unable to cry out.

 

Eldrin could feel control return as pain ebbed, slowly, but he was left gasping on the ground while his body fought to recover the oxygen it craved. When hands touched him he struggled ineffectually, his limbs weak and jerking where he didn't want them. His eyes burned with tears. He didn't understand. The betrayal hurt nearly as much as the poison.  _ Uncle, why? _ But his tongue refused to work and he could only moan low in his throat. He tried to shake his head at Zulkan,  _ No, stop, don't do this! _ but he was ignored.

 

His eyes rolled up toward Zulkan. He could not see his body but he felt the gauntlets and gloves sliding from his right hand first, and then his left. They would find nothing there, only pale, clammy skin. Eldrin could hear horrible thuds and cracks and knew that Valka was being killed, and the tear clouding his eye next was for the Mazken.  _ Eventually they will find the ring, they will order Valka to kill me, and then he will be a slave to the Sixth House forever. _

 

“No,” Eldrin sobbed. Strength was returning. He yanked against the woman's grip on his arm.

 

“What – Zulkan, where's the ring?” the young woman demanded, staring in confusion at Eldrin's bare fingers.

 

“I'm sorry,” Zulkan told Eldrin, tugging his helm free so that he could breathe. “I intended you to be one of us, not for it to end this way – what?” He grabbed at Eldrin's other hand, stared at it, stared over at the Mazken. “Impossible. He can't be wearing it on his toes, it's too large to stay on. Eldrin, what did you do?”


	20. Chapter 20

Eldrin's eyes darted aside to Valka and he saw that the Mazken was fighting from the ground. When Eldrin's gaze locked back on Zulkan he actually grinned venomously, teeth white in the dim.

 

“Valka is free and you're going to pay,” he hissed through his teeth. 

 

Valka was paralyzed for almost exactly two seconds. He became aware that he could move his hands in the instant before a club descended toward his eyes, and he jerked a hand up to grasp at the wielder's wrist, squeezing until he felt bones crack. The mer screamed, surprisingly high-pitched for a male, and dropped the club; it bounced from Valka's nasal and rolled away. The Mazken twisted his hips to bring one knee-guard sharply up into the second Dunmer's unarmored belly. She gasped and gagged, staggering back. Valka yanked the other mer into reach by his broken wrist and slammed his helmed forehead into the Dunmer's unarmored one. There was another, much louder  _ crack,  _ and then he scrambled to his feet – his right knee tried to buckle – and limped rapidly over toward the others. He could not stop to get the spear. If they found the ring it would be all over.

 

He picked the female up and tossed her at the others as though she weighed nothing, buoyed by panicked adrenaline. They had been bending over Eldrin, had they killed him? Had they – no, he was unhelmed, still breathing, face wet with spittle but wet eyes aware.  Eldrin pushed against the ground with one arm when Zulkan released him, but he was still too weak to bear his own weight. 

 

As Zulkan started to back away, Valka planted a boot in his belly and shoved him toward the creature on the dais, placing his body between them and any further spellfire. Eldrin heard his pained grunt as he knelt to haul the Dunmer up onto his shoulders, and then he staggered toward the potion, the doorway, and salvation, mouth gaping in a scream of silent agony as he forced his bruised body to obey him.  Eldrin tensed only briefly before giving in to let himself be carried, fingers of one hand tightening around the Mazken's pauldron.

 

One purple-gray hand swooped down to grab the bottle. If he could only gain the hallway Valka knew that he could save Eldrin. That was all that mattered.

 

“Valka is  _ what?”  _ Zulkan  _ oofed  _ as he was kicked – the Mazken kicked like an alit even after the beating he'd taken – and then he was righting himself as he stood before the Ascended Sleeper, hands raised in supplication. The Ascended waved him aside it glided down from the platform, moving after the escaping Mazken with arms outstretched. Brother Handun, who had been a carter, would never get up again. He lay with a startling dent in his forehead and a surprised expression, eyes turned toward the ceiling. Sister Lallhui lay on her back with Sister Handellu sprawled over her, both moving feebly. Zulkan followed after the Sleeper, stunned, unable to believe everything had gone so badly so quickly.  _ One Mazken. One! And free? Why? Why would he EVER serve Eldrin if he had a choice? _

 

Valka dodged around the doorway, sprinted a few steps down the dark hall, and then slung Eldrin down from his shoulder as gently as he physically could. He shoved the potion into Eldrin's hand, uncorked it, and held his hand over the Dunmer's to guide it to his mouth.

 

“Drink,” he said hoarsely. His face was swollen and there was a puncture in his cheek where a club's thorn had hit it, his chest was already turning black, but he did not seem distressed by the pain. His hand on Eldrin's was steady. “Get us home.”

 

Eldrin had no time to speak, no time to thank the Mazken. That could wait. But his eyes rolled up to Valka's damaged face as he gulped the liquid.  _ He bore this for me. _ The realization drove barbs through his chest and then yellow-white sparks flooded his vision and Eldrin blinked against the light. Suddenly he was falling with nothing to support his back but Eldrin caught himself with one arm and he opened his eyes to the curved stucco wall of the Temple courtyard. The sudden daylight was painful on his retinas even though the sky was darkened by clouds. Ash whipped over their heads, although they were insulated from the brunt of the storm by the wall that encircled them.

 

Valka's knee dropped slightly as the light blinded him, and now it was resting on something softer than the cavern's gravel floor. He raised an arm weakly against the light, squinting. They were in a rounded courtyard in front of a low building with an arched doorway. There was no one around them, probably because of the blowing ash storm; instinctively he maneuvered himself to try to shield Eldrin from the wind. The wall kept most of it away, though he was aware of the irritation of little bits of ash scraping at his new little wounds.

 

 

Eldrin dropped the bottle to grab Valka's wrist and released his meager heal against Valka's gauntlet.  

 

Valka hardly noticed the Dunmer grabbing at him until the pulse of magicka hit.  He had been able to bear the pain, had learned to accept it as part of his universe, had built walls against it to defend his mind and sanity.  This time, in this moment, healing almost undid him.  Valka sagged against the wall, eyes fluttering for a second. A weak, surprised sound escaped his lips. “Ngh?”

 

Eldrin heart jumped at the sound, which he interpreted to be a noise of pain. He twisted to dig in his bag and lifted one of the healing potions, urgently shoving it into Valka's hand.

 

“Hurry up, drink!” Eldrin said, voice thick with concern. He shifted onto his knees so that he could support Valka's shoulder with his other hand, eyes rapidly flicking across Valka's face and body in search of the serious injury that had caused him to sag. His weak spell had only partially closed the hole on Valka's cheek, leaving behind a bloody mark, and his chest was still horribly bruised. Gods knew how many internal injuries he must have had, and it would take all of Eldrin's magicka to even heal half of them. Eldrin raised his hand to Valka's chest anyway as soon as the potion was out of his grasp. A second flash of magicka poured from his splayed fingers, sinking into the daedra's chest for all the good it would do. Tears of frustration dampened Eldrin's eyes.

 

Valka was aware of a voice, and looked down at the potion in his hand. Eldrin was healing him again, cool flesh against the fever of his bruises. He was ready to curl up and just fade gently away from the pain and have that be the last thing that he ever saw, Eldrin's face completely whole and -

 

And weeping.

 

_ Come to your senses. Even if you did die now you would just be trapped back in the Isles again, fool. What is this morbidity, are you now Demented yourself? You're upsetting Eldrin. Do not add to his suffering. _

 

He shook his head, setting the potion carefully on the ground. He laid his hand on his own chest and released magicka, healing what little remained of the wounds in his body. His head reluctantly cleared as the black and swollen marks smoothed away. Perhaps he'd taken a harder blow to the head than he'd realized.

 

“Keep it,” he said. “I'm sorry that I distressed you. How do you feel? Are you in pain?”

 

“ _ You _ distressed me?” Eldrin said, incredulous and nearly ready to laugh, but then his face fell, shoulders slumping. His hands fell limp in his own lap and his gaze dropped to the ground. “My own uncle, Valka. You were right.” His voice was strained, trembling, almost a whisper. His fingers twitched in his lap.

 

_ My own uncle tried to kill me. _

 

_ My own uncle tried to infect me with soul sickness. _

 

_ Why? Why? What am I to do? _ Eldrin curled forward slightly, suddenly lightheaded. He wiped at the dampness in his eyes with the back of his hand. He didn't even care that Valka was watching him cry. His own family had used him, tricked him. He had almost lost Valka forever. He could comprehend nothing but grief.

 

“I see your sorrow,” Valka said softly. On this day, in this moment, he dared curl an arm around Eldrin's shoulders as the wind rushed over their heads. He ached. He could not imagine what Eldrin's sensations must be. “And I am grieved with your grief. Let us go home out of the wind. We will decide what must be done, and whatever it is, you will not face it alone.”

 

Eldrin folded against Valka's chest without thinking, covering his eyes with his hand, the back of that hand and arm pressed against Valka. It was not exactly comfortable with hard bonemold armor separating their bodies. He drew in a shaky breath, trying to find his words.

 

“My own uncle tried to kill me,” Eldrin repeatedly stupidly and this time he was aware of how pathetic and small was his voice. He couldn't move past that thought. He loathed himself for how easily he had been conned. He loathed himself for this weakness.  Valka was trying to get him out of the storm but all he could do was weep. And after Eldrin had nearly cost them both their lives! Unforgivable.

 

“I know,” Valka said softly, and squeezed him carefully, gauntlet cupping his head. The bonemold flexed. He cursed the armor, and blessed it. If it had been fabric he thought it would have completely destroyed him. He did not understand this sudden feeling of weakness, of exhaustion. He wanted to curl up with Eldrin in his arms and hold him safe and tight and never move again. And  _ that  _ wasn't head injury. Something was wrong with him that healing would not fix.

 

He indulged this for just a little moment. It couldn't have been long. Then he moved to stand, arm around Eldrin to pull him up.

 

“Thank you, Valka,” Eldrin said quietly, rising along with the Mazken. He realized that he had to pull himself together. Someone could step out of the Temple at any moment and see him held by a daedra and that would be inexcusable without any visible injuries to explain it. He pulled gently away from Valka as they passed through the archway of the courtyard and stepped into the wind. There weren't any people nearby, although further down the street two figures scurried away with shawls pulled up over their noses. Eldrin had no such thing and his helm was gone, lost in a cavern a mile away. He staggered toward home with an arm up over his face, blinded by tears and ash.

 

Valka moved with Eldrin, let him go when he tugged free. It wrenched him for reasons that he did not understand and was beginning to suspect he didn't want to understand. He walked to windward of Eldrin as much as he could, arm up to try and shield them as they made their way back to the Manor. This plane was so, so cold. The grit and sting of it matched his mood perfectly.

 

Tsamabi slipped out of the dining room when she heard boots in the hall but she hesitated with her hand on the door. She was holding a dust rag in the other, which she tucked into the front pocket of a dust-stained apron. Eldrin stank of fear and grief and rot and other strange, unidentifiable scents. Parts of his armor were missing; she did not fully understand what any of this meant other than it could not be good.

 

“Master Eldrin...”

 

Eldrin kept his face turned pointedly away from her as he lumbered downstairs to mechanically divest himself his armor in his own room, not even bothering with the armory. Tsamabi turned her face to the Mazken, eyes wide with a mixture of alarm and confusion. “Valka? What happened?”

 

“Please pardon him,” Valka said, shutting the door behind them gently. For the first time he voluntarily removed his helmet, running a gauntlet through purple-black hair that hung just to his chin. It was ragged at the ends, cut with a weapon and not with scissors. “Zulkan Narave betrayed us. We went to learn what was wrong and found Sixth House cultists. We escaped only with great difficulty. And - ” His face was suddenly dismayed as he looked down at his hands.

 

“I have left behind my spear.” Another weapon lost. Well, he hadn't been that attached to it. But it had been a good spear. Valka shook his head and began to remove his gauntlets and set them inside the helmet. “Eldrin now knows he can no longer trust his uncle. I did not know him but I gather that they were close.”

 

Tsamabi's ears and tail shot straight up along with the fur of her nape, her eyes growing so round that the white sclera was clearly visible around giant golden irises. She stepped back as if knocked and stared at Valka for several seconds before raising a clawed hand to her chest.

 

“Valka, he must go to the guards at once! She must tell Master Llethri!” She pushed herself away from the door, eyes trained on Gilan's office across the foyer from where she stood.

 

“Wait, wait.” He held out a hand urgently. “I don't think he wants the guards told, Tsamabi. If Zulkan is exposed it will expose all of his relations to scrutiny, probably to search. It will harm the family. We can – we can deal with this.”

 

Tsamabi paused, but she looked at Valka as if he had grown another head. Her agitation slowly shifted to simple confusion, ears relaxing and fur smoothing, but she squinted at him as she stood up straight.

 

“She advises friend Valka to think very long and hard about whether or not concealing this is the correct thing to do,” Tsamabi said slowly. “Master Eldrin's inclinations are usually contrary to what is best. But if this is Eldrin's wish, she will not interfere. Khajiit will forget she has ever heard these words. He had better go below to speak to Young Master and Tsamabi will start on lunch.”

 

Valka actually laughed quietly. His eyes felt strangely damp.

 

“I know,” he said. “Poor Eldrin. Thank you, Tsamabi.” He turned to go downstairs slowly, wiping at his eyes in confusion. There was ash on him as well. His skin felt gritty to his own touch. 

 

Below, Eldrin was sluggishly pulling off the bonemold boots while seated at the foot of his bed, the rest of the pieces strewn around his feet. He wore black padding beneath, his hair pulled back in a low bun. He did not realize that his face was streaked with sooty marks where ash had clung to the trails of his tears; he would be horrified that Tsamabi had seen this. Nothing felt real to him and he was hardly aware of what he was doing. He had left the door ajar.  

 

By the time he entered Eldrin's room, Valka was composed again.  Eldrin was staring blandly at the floor, though he was peripherally aware of the Mazken's calm presence.

 

Valka  set his helmet with the gauntlets inside on the floor beside the door and went to collect up the pieces of Eldrin's armor. His fatigue was not physical. He felt perfectly equal to the task of cleaning them with his own. He tucked the pile tight under one arm and paused to rest a hand on Eldrin's shoulder on his way past, lightly.

 

Valka fought tooth and nail for Eldrin's life. Valka treated Eldrin's grief as if it were his own. Valka shielded him from the storm. Valka was here, just as he always was these past few days. He was never out of reach. He did nothing but give, and he had never asked anything in return -- only that he be allowed to stay.

 

Valka was daedra but he was more of a friend than Eldrin had ever known. Even in the aftermath of his uncle's betrayal, Eldrin discovered his heart could ache for an entirely different reason. Eldrin felt his eyes sting again but he clenched them shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose so that it would seem he was only trying to thwart a headache. He gained control and was in no danger of humiliating himself again when he opened his eyes, a touch startling him out of his stupor. Heat spread through his chest to mirror the heat of Valka's hand on his shoulder and he glanced up at the Mazken's face. Then his brow furrowed.

 

“Valka, are you okay?” he asked with minor alarm.

 

Valka paused, steadying the armor with his other hand. He looked at Eldrin curiously. "Of course. I am completely healed. It is probably ash that you see."

 

“Yeah,” Eldrin said, belatedly realizing that he probably looked much the same, if not worse. He rose to check himself in the mirror and sighed inwardly at the trails under his eyes.

 

“You should probably bathe,” Eldrin said, pouring water from a pitcher into the basin to wash his face. 

 

“I will,” Valka said. 

 

He should have bathed himself, but it was the last thing Eldrin felt like doing. He didn't know what he felt like doing, other than dying in his sleep. Then he braced his hands against the sides of the basin, staring into the water that still rippled slightly. “Maybe I should go to Uncle's house before he has time to get home, tear it apart, look for the thing that's infected him...”

 

Valka set down the armor on the floor by the door and turned back to Eldrin, shaking his head. His hair moved around his ears, an unaccustomed and mildly distracting sensation. They were round ears, like a human's. 

 

“No, Eldrin, no. Do you remember what Kazi said? She had no reason to lie when you were not expected ever to leave that cavern. Your uncle was not infected by an object. He was born a relation of House Dagoth and he went back to them voluntarily. Has he ever seemed to you like a mer entranced?” It was cruel to deny him that hope, but it would be crueler to let him walk into another trap believing that his uncle could be saved. “Like one under the influence that the statue had over you?”

 

“No..,” Eldrin admitted quietly. He dipped a washcloth into the water and wiped at his face. The water was cold, but not colder than the storm had been.

 

_ So the Narave family is descended from House Dagoth. Did my mother know? Could she have been... involved? _ That thought made his guts twist and he hastily discarded it. It couldn't be true. He'd already lost his uncle; all his fond memories of the mer, corrupted and cast into shadow. He couldn't lose his memory of her, too.

 

What was he to do? Part of Eldrin wanted Zulkan to die, or at least to be locked away for the rest of his life, but the thought of either fate befalling his uncle cut him deeply even though he had been the one to twist the knife in Eldrin's back. Eldrin lowered the cloth in his hands and he stared tiredly at himself in the mirror, then past himself at Valka. It was only the second time Eldrin had seen him out of his helm, and he winced internally at that. He hadn't noticed his ears the first time.

 

_ How odd. He almost looks like a cross between Dunmer and human, as if the Prince who crafted them meant to make them appealing to every race. _ There were no strong emotions associated with that thought, only mild intrigue.

 

Valka bowed his head.

 

“I regret that I ask this,” he said. “But can you lend me an old robe, some piece of clothing? If I'm going to wash up I may as well clean my padding layer as well.” The clothes from the tailor were no doubt still a work in progress, or Tsamabi probably would have mentioned it. There was blood from his injuries and ash from the floor ground into the padding trousers that were his only real item of clothing.

 

Eldrin darkened, eyes widening imperceptibly.

 

“Of course,” he said quickly, whirling over to the wardrobe to rifle through it hurriedly. His hands slowed when he realized he was acting nervously for absolutely no reason. He didn't need to rush.

 

Valka was so much bigger and broader.  Most of Eldrin's clothes would be tight on him. Eldrin picked out a robe that he remembered being too loose on himself. It was something he used to sleep in and had been jammed to the corner of the rack as he gravitated toward sleeping in pants.

 

It was pale yellow silk, the three-inch wide, light gray-green trim embroidered with the graceful shapes of floating netch in darker thread. The neckline was low-cut and square-shaped. Eldrin was sure none of his pants or underclothes would fit Valka so he didn't bother, but he dig out a pair of gray linen socks and a brown sash to use as a belt from a drawer. The sash was also silk and patterned with interlocking geometric shapes in a lighter shade of tan.

 

“I don't think this will fit you well,” Eldrin said as he handed the things to Valka, awkwardly averting his eyes. “But if it does you can keep it. The wicker bin in the bathroom is for laundry.”

 

_ The wicker bin is for laundry.  _ Valka tried to picture himself putting things in the laundry for Tsamabi to wash.  _ Absolutely not. _

 

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the robe carefully. “I'm sure it's fine.” It was a bit finer than he was comfortable with, in fact, but surely he was being given it because Eldrin didn't use it often? Perhaps it had always fit wrong. Eldrin generally slept in other sorts of things.

 

He removed his corset, boots and knee-guards and set them beside Eldrin's armor. He went into the bathroom barefoot in his short kilt and padding pants, muscle shifting under the skin around his spine as he carried the clothes folded in one hand.

 

Valka pumped a little water into the hip bath and washed as best he could, soap on his skin, soap in his hair. He tried not to shiver.  _ Now you are just being weak and dramatic. You have washed in cold water in the Isles more often than not. You have acted the woman often enough here!  You may as well go on doing so. _

 

Then he washed his things in the sink and hung them from the hooks on the back of the door, since he wasn't sure what else to do with them. At least hopefully it would be less work for the Khajiit. Just because his value was rising in Eldrin's estimation did not mean he intended to promote himself above servant.

 

Now that was a very... Dunmer way of thinking. Valka thought about that as he tried to put on the robe. It wouldn't go across his shoulders; there was a protesting creak from the fabric that threatened tearing. He tied the belt and left it peeled to the waist instead. He now had a very ornamental kilt. And socks. He was oddly pleased with the socks. They felt soft around his toes and warmer than walking on the floor. He was looking down at them bemusedly as he walked back over to Eldrin's room.

 

 

Eldrin changed into lounging about clothes while Valka was gone, a loose black linen tunic and matching pants, and let his hair down from the bun. It fell in a wave against his back. He left his armor padding balled up against the screen.

 

He had to figure out what to do about Zulkan. Eldrin did not want to think; he wanted to curl up against Valka and let the Mazken squeeze him as hard as he could, stroke his hair, and tell him it was all going to be okay. But that wasn't going to happen. Eldrin could not run away this time, not from this problem.

 

 _Would my uncle try to kill me in my home? Probably not..._ _He lured me to a remote place for a reason. I'm a hard target to kill both because of Valka and because Zulkan wants things done in secret, but I'd be stupid to think he won't try again._ Eldrin sat down at his table with his forearms crossed and leaning on the surface, staring despondently at nothing. _Maybe I can reason with him. I can threaten him. If he doesn't pull away from the Sixth House I will go to the guards. Maybe it’s not too late to save him._

 

He got up to retrieve paper and ink from the shelf. Eldrin wrote two letters. One was an anonymous letter to the guards that Eldrin expected to send out no matter what. It explained the true purpose of the shop under-skar. There they would find the skull of Hlavren Nazthiri if it wasn't too late. He wrote of the Sixth House base under the spire tined like a fork a mile from town.

 

Then he wrote a second, very specific letter.

 

_ If I, Eldrin Llethri, should die, I want it to be known that I was murdered no matter how natural my death may have seemed. My uncle, Zulkan Narave, has already tried to kill me once and I believe he will try again. _

 

_ It all began several days ago when my uncle gifted me a brick to warm my bed. I thought nothing of it and although I did not use the brick, I kept it in my room. Soon I started having strange dreams and occasionally waking hallucinations. I realized something was wrong when I started sleepwalking and scratching furniture with my nails in my sleep. My Mazken servant, Valka, watched over me the following night and broke open the brick after realizing it was the cause of my odd behavior. A clay object was embedded inside. When it was broken, its hold over me broke as well. _

 

_ I confronted my uncle about this. He claimed innocence, which I believed, saying he had found the brick in a pile outside Morvayn Manor. The next day I received an anonymous note asking me to visit the cave Nashurnibi, one mile North of town. The door is hidden by trama vines beneath a spire with three tines like a fork. I went with Valka. I saw Zulkan Narave, with my own eyes, attending some sort of worship service inside the cave. There were other Sixth House cultists, most of which looked like completely ordinary people. _

 

_ We were ambushed. An Ascended Sleeper attacked us, but we escaped; the thing still lives. It is still here, just outside of Ald'ruhn, free from the Ghost Fence. Aside from my uncle, Kazi Deghenu and Lallhui Seran are the only names I can identify. Do not let them fool you. They are capable of deception but they are soul sick and extremely dangerous. They must be stopped. _

 

_ Eldrin Llethri _

_ 16 Last Seed, 3E 426 _

 

He left the letters to dry on the table for now. The first he would send out tomorrow no matter what happened. The second would have to be hidden or given to Tsamabi to hold. He was still seated, one arm on the table, the other in his lap, lips pursed as he stared thoughtfully at the letters when Valka entered. At least he had done  _ something. _

 

Eldrin glanced up at the Mazken and for the first time that day an amused smile broke across his lips. He suppressed a laugh.

 

“Well,” he said, fighting down the smile and shifting in the chair, face darkening slightly. “I suppose that works, for now.” With his damp hair framing Valka's face, Eldrin noticed just how uneven the ends of it were. “You need a haircut, Valka,” he said more soberly, although his eyes still were smiling. “Do they not have scissors in the Madgod's realm?”

 

Valka half-smiled in return, a by-now familiar twitch of one side of his mouth. He probably looked very ridiculous.

 

“How many mad people would you trust with sharp things near your head?” he asked dryly. “And even women own few possessions. That is a privilege of rank and permanent quarters, granted to few. But if you will supply me with scissors, I will do my best.” He looked down. “I am wearing socks. It continually shocks me how many more sensual comforts you enjoy than those of us you call seducers.”

 

“Don't be foolish, Valka. If you cut your own hair it'll end up an even worse mess,” Eldrin said as he rose, waving Valka away from the door so he could pass. “If you lot would stop senselessly killing each other, maybe you would have time to invent and produce nice things, too,” he added dryly over his shoulder as he padded into the hall to rummage around in the closet behind the stairs.

 

He came back a moment later with a folded sheet under his arm and scissors in the other hand. He set the scissors on the table while he shook out the sheet over the center of the floor, then moved a chair from the table into the middle of it.

 

“Sit,” he said, moving toward the vanity to fetch the comb.

 

 

Valka moved aside, then stopped short, stunned by the hypocrisy of this. Did he even know what he was saying? Eldrin's life had been one long parade of violent incidents since the first day he had summoned Valka.

 

“There has been a sad delay in the adoption of a more peaceful Dunmer-like culture among Mazken and Aureals,” he said solemnly. “Although I'm sure you will be pleased to learn that the civilized practice of dueling is extremely common.”

 

He didn't have to sit. He could refuse.  _ If I let Eldrin do things to my hair I will let him do anything at all. _

 

_ I will let him do anything at all regardless. I know that. I just have the luxury of arguing with him first now.  _ One  _ of us should continue to have no illusions. _

 

Valka went and sat down, shoulders resting against the chair back with a faint creak. Sitting in chairs was another thing he had done somewhat little of in the Isles. Usually when he had the luxury to sit down he was not near furniture, he was near a rock or a fallen log or a tuft of moss on his tenth-day.

 

There was a pair of letters sitting on the table. Valka looked at them curiously over his shoulder as he sat there, in the moment before he turned to face forward again.

 

One brow quirked up as Eldrin came back with the comb in hand, maneuvering himself around the back of the chair. He couldn't tell if Valka was being sarcastic or not.

 

“Is that so? Do you ever participate?” Eldrin asked. He hesitated with the comb uplifted, staring down at the back of Valka's head. He could smell his own soap on Valka's glossy purple-black hair, musky and sharp, and faintly beneath that something he recognized as being purely Valka. It occurred to him that this was a somewhat intimate thing he was about to do.

 

_ No it isn't. People cut each other's hair all the time. _ It was also very improper, considering their stations. Eldrin realized he did not care. Valka had saved him from certain death and carried him to safety over his own shoulder only an hour before. He lowered the comb to Valka's hair, moving more cautiously than he would have for himself. He held the damp hair over the flat of his palm so that he could comb out the ends without scraping Valka's neck, but he dropped it as he worked his way up, the teeth running gently over the daedra's scalp.

 

“Occasionally. More often when I was newer and less able to avoid it. Naked male dueling is a popular spectator...” he trailed off, voice falling away as he gradually registered what he was feeling. Every small tug on his hair produced little sensations of pleasure in his scalp. The comb actually touching his head sent a tingling feeling over his skull and down his spine. It was hypnotic, irresistible. With it he felt none of the pressure to perform that he normally felt associated with physical pleasure. It did nothing to him below the waist, raised no flush of blood to his cheeks and throat. Perhaps that was why he felt almost subsumed by it, gently drifting on a wave of warm euphoria.

 

“...Sport,” he managed almost inaudibly. He blinked very slowly.

 

Eldrin smiled slightly, wistful and pleased in equal measure. He couldn't see Valka's face, but he thought he understood what he was hearing. Had anyone ever touched Valka in a kind way? Realizing that he might be giving Valka pleasure made Eldrin's heart jump, his breath quicken.

 

He wasn't really sure what to make of naked male dueling. It seemed like something he might like to watch, but now he considered it from the perspective of one who had been forced to compete. Nothing Valka had ever told him about the Isles had been positive so far. That experience probably was not any different. He sighed silently through his nose and decided not to ask about it. He didn't need Valka to recount his tortures.

 

Eldrin worked the comb over the daedra's scalp for longer than he really needed to, eyes gliding down to what little he could see of Valka's naked back. Eldrin fought down the impulse to run his hand along Valka's neck to gently squeeze that thick muscle between neck and shoulder...

 

_ Stop this. _ The burning heat in Eldrin's face and chest was just starting to pool between his legs and it would become a problem if he didn't stamp out those thoughts. Eldrin pulled briefly away to lay the comb on the table and pick up the scissors.

 

It had been too long since he had spoken.

 

“I wrote a letter to the guards telling them about the Sixth House cultists in the city and the cave, to be sent out tomorrow. The second letter is to be delivered to the guards if I should die. I'm hoping that simply telling my uncle about that will be enough to keep him from trying again, and maybe I can talk some sense into him. Get him to leave the cult,” Eldrin explained. “He may not be soul sick but those people have poisoned his mind in other ways.”

 

Valka felt the muscles in his arms and shoulders grow gradually more relaxed as Eldrin worked at his hair with the comb, as though he were slowly melting. He forgot to be uncomfortable that Eldrin was doing something for him and not vice versa. He forgot that the last time Eldrin had stood behind him for any reason, he had died. Nothing seemed to matter at all as he floated pleasantly in a calm, quiet place where he had never been.

 

Eventually it stopped, and he became gradually aware that Eldrin was speaking. He did not process the first part of the first sentence, but he heard the rest. Valka sighed deeply as he forced himself to straighten, opening his eyes fully.

 

“I suppose he probably will not risk violence in his home in town,” Valka said slowly. “I think that it would be better not to speak to him at all, but if you feel that you must, of course it must be done. Just do not go there without me, please.”

 

“Eh,” Eldrin said. He was busy lining up the scissors with Valka's hair laying over his flat palm again. He had never cut someone's hair before and now he was realizing this might be slightly more difficult than it seemed. He couldn't make it look any worse than Valka's chop job, at least. He cut very carefully, leaning forward with his face taut in concentration. Focusing on something provided the distraction that he needed.

 

When he was finished Eldrin stood up straight, grinning to himself. He'd cut off a little less than two inches and it looked straight to him. He ran his hand over Valka's hair and then his shoulders to brush the slithery little pieces of hair off onto the floor with the rest, although there were still some strands left behind.

 

“I'm done,” he announced proudly. “It looks good.”

 

Eldrin's hands moving the ends of his hair about as he cut it was another set of sensations entirely. There were little snipping noises in his ears, a quiet and unthreatening and repetitive sound. Valka let himself be lulled again, eyelids sinking to half-mast as he sat in the chair. He wanted nothing to ruin the memory of this perfect moment. It was the happiest he had ever been.

 

All things eventually end, for good or ill. He could not restrain a small shiver as Eldrin ran a hand over his shoulders, cool palm on his warm flesh, but he sat up quickly as it passed, blinking as if roused from sleep. Valka rose to go and look into the vanity mirror. One hand rose to touch the newly straightened edge. He felt... Lighter. Some of that calm had not completely left him. He turned to smile at the Dunmer.

 

“Yes, it does. Thank you, Eldrin.”

 

He felt sadness – that he had never felt such a thing before, that it would probably never happen again – but more than that he felt gratitude and warmth. A thing like this could carry him through many cold years. To be always near Eldrin would be a torment for very different reasons than he had at first supposed; but he felt himself more equal to enduring it.

 

“I'll deal with the armor,” he said prosaically. “Perhaps you would like to have a wash yourself.”

 

Eldrin grinned back at him. Valka looked so... so  _ beautiful _ with his hair down and a genuine smile on his face.

 

 

“Thanks. I suppose I'd better,” Eldrin said, moving the chair back to its home and leaving the scissors on the table. Then he balled up the sheet and stuffed it into the basket still resting against the wall before heading across to the washroom. This was Eldrin's idea of cleaning up.

 

As soon as he was behind a closed door and away from Valka the melancholy settled itself back on Eldrin's head and he moved lethargically to disrobe, to pump the water, and then to wash the stink of the cave from his skin.


	21. Chapter 21

Eldrin briefly considered masturbating now that he had a moment to himself, in order to prevent the embarrassing sort of situation that had almost happened while he combed Valka's hair. It had been several days since he'd last been able to, and even when he was alone Eldrin had been too busy moping.  _ You know your life is bleak when you're too sad to jerk off.  _ No one could fault him for feeling frustrated when he had a ridiculously attractive and muscular servant – friend – whatever the hells he was – who never fully clothed himself constantly hanging around.

 

_ He  _ **_is_ ** _ my friend,  _ Eldrin realized suddenly, startling himself. Honestly, his uncle's betrayal would have been affecting him much more severely if Valka hadn't been there.  _ You will not face it alone. _ Eldrin's eyes began to water just at that memory. He covered his eyes with one hand, curling forward where he sat in the tub, the other wrapping around his chest. He was not crying, but so many emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He pitied Valka, poor Valka who had given Eldrin so much when he was completely undeserving of any kindness. He would never forgive himself for the way he had initially treated the Mazken. He would not put Valka into a situation where he felt pressured or used.  _ That's why I need to get this out of the way. _

 

But he couldn't bring himself to touch himself. He'd never felt less in the mood for pleasure in all his life. And so Eldrin bathed, very slowly because he was putting off doing what he knew had to be done, and then he dried and wrapped himself in two towels, one around his waist and one up around his hair. His room door was ajar and he pushed it open cautiously, hoping Valka might still be in the armory.

 

Valka was indeed still in the armory, cheerfully wiping down armor pieces. He had started with his own, because they were probably going out again and he could not walk the streets of – whatever this city was called, it had never been mentioned to him – in a yellow silk kilt. Now he was again armored, silk robe neatly folded on the table, and was wiping out the inside of Eldrin's bonemold cuirass. It smelled like sweat and ash and... Eldrin. Valka blinked down at the piece of armor, aware of a quickening of his pulse that he normally associated with very different circumstances. There was a joyful, expanding warmth in his groin. He quelled it easily – he had complete mental control over those reflexes, not only as a result of his species but as a result of four hundred years of practice – but he was deeply startled at himself.

 

He was now aware that Eldrin had a scent particular to himself. That was not going to be helpful to him in the future, he suspected. Valka chose very deliberately not to picture Eldrin in any situation that Eldrin would not wish. This was a difficult mental exercise. He had to think about some reasonably unpleasant things to maintain that state of mind, squinting studiously down at the armor as he continued wiping and polishing.

 

Why in the world should he think of Eldrin as he would a woman? The things he wanted to do were not things a woman would demand:  _ swoop him up and carry him to the fire and hold his poor cold body against me until he is warm. Rub and press and tug his mast with his back to my belly until he dies that little death, shivering in rapture; listen to him breathe, feel his heart against my heart. Lie with my arms around him as he sleeps and know that he is alive because I can feel the movement of his shoulders. _

 

_ Stop that.  _ He quelled another treacherous growth of heat, forcing his mind down another track.  _ Elytra limb snapping off in his hand, officer leaning over him, spear butt coming at his head. Dagger exercises, careful and precise. Orally pleasuring a grakenda, hand firmly on the back of his head shoving it this way and that. “Man, you are doing it badly,” without explaining what he should do differently. _

 

That was more or less effective. He continued cleaning the armor, frowning in concentration.

 

Eldrin folded up the dried letters on the table so that Tsamabi wouldn't accidentally read them. The less she knew, the better. Then he occupied himself by combing and fixing his hair in his twin braids, the rest of it loose. He wished he had never let Valka comb it that time. Now Eldrin knew that it felt good and he had one more thing to pine for, one more little intimacy he would never share with anyone else.

 

Valka would braid his hair if Eldrin asked. Of course he would. But it would mean something different to Eldrin than it did to Valka, and that's why it wasn't okay to ask. He was a little relieved Valka was out of the room for the moment; being half-naked in front of him had meant nothing days ago, but now Eldrin felt that it would probably be uncomfortable. He hurried through his hair and then dressed in his usual silk finery, this time in a light blue tunic with a low neckline that revealed his collarbone. It was sleeveless, but a cloth imitation of pauldrons in a darker shade draped over his shoulders. Below it he wore a salmon undershirt and darker blue trousers. He debated carrying Valka's ring with him to his uncle's house, but it seemed more dangerous to leave it alone, so he left that tucked inside his clothing. He slipped into his beaded, curly shoes and wore his gloves again, lest someone he know recognize that he was not wearing the ring.

 

A soft tap at the door startled Eldrin but he realized even before he heard her voice that it was Tsamabi's knock.

 

“Master Eldrin? His meal.”

 

“Bring it,” he said and finished cinching his leather belt with the tanto around his waist before going over to meet her at the table. He picked up one of the letters as she set down a tray of crab cakes, opening it briefly to check that it was the right one. He handed it to her.

 

 

“Tsamabi, this is an odd request, but it's a very serious one. I want you to seal this letter and store it someplace safe where no one would find it, and if anything happens to me you are to deliver it to my father. Do you understand?”

 

“Of course, Master Eldrin,” she said, very carefully holding the letter close to her body in both hands. She glanced once at Eldrin's eyes and then respectfully down. Eldrin scrutinized her face, but nothing in the cant of her ears or the set of her features gave away any emotion other than passive obedience. “Is this all?”

 

“Yes, that's all.”

 

Tsamabi bowed and backed away, and Eldrin caught the door as she left to hold it open, for Valka when he returned. Then he pinned the other letter beneath a bottle on his shelf and sat down to eat.

 

Valka left the bonemold armor arranged carefully on the table, the boots underneath, so that it could all finish drying. He retrieved his half-damp padding and skirt from the bath to put on before he armored himself. The helmet felt different over his shorter hair, less tight and more comfortable.

 

It worried him that Eldrin now had no helm. He took up a spear from a rack to take with him. It had a sharp, narrow point, and it felt oddly light and bendable, but he thought he would be able to use it. It did not look old enough to be a family heirloom. Hopefully being carried by a servant would not dishonor it in the family's eyes.

 

The door to the room was open. He went in carrying the folded silk robe in one hand. Eldrin was eating again. This was good and necessary, and also a good thing to remember that he found disgusting. Valka forced himself to look for a couple of seconds, expression intent, storing up that image against the next inconvenient moment of fantasy. Then he went to lay the silk robe on the vanity table.

 

“I will borrow this spear, if it does not offend,” he said. “Mine was lost in the cavern where we left your helm.” He sighed. “I regret both.” Eldrin had not mentioned the lost helmet. Perhaps he was not easily attached to his martial equipment, or perhaps he had been distracted by the horror of realization regarding his uncle.

 

Eldrin followed Valka with his eyes as he paused to watch the Dunmer eat. He hadn't missed that Valka usually avoided looking at him and that serious expression was somehow amusing. Was his disgust turning to curiosity? Sometimes Valka reminded Eldrin of a newborn guar, stumbling around in awe of the world. Perhaps that wasn't fair. Eldrin would have been just as lost in the Isles.

 

“No, that's fine,” Eldrin said, setting down the fork and turning in his chair to watch Valka. “My father will probably be cross if he notices I lost the helm and gauntlets, but he never goes into the armory. It's not a big deal, though. Our possessions are more... replaceable.” He hesitated as he spoke. He felt like an ass, but it wasn't his fault that he'd been born a have and Valka a have-not.

 

“Anyway. After I eat I think I'd better go to... to Zulkan's house. I know you say I should avoid him, but I can't just ignore someone who tried to kill me. I've got to stand my ground.”

 

“If you must. But you will take me with you, yes?” Valka said. He hadn't expected Eldrin to change his mind. Eldrin had never, not one time, responded to advice or implied criticism in a way to actually alter his behavior. The fact that Valka was no longer a literal slave did not and would not change that. If he would not listen to his own progenitors, why should he listen to a daedra?

 

“He may not be able to threaten you physically, but you do not know that he does not have something like the skull of Hlavren in his possession that he might use to attack your mind.”

 

“Of course I will bring you,” Eldrin said, smiling slightly. Unexpected warmth spread through his chest, even though he knew Valka was only being practical. “When have I ever not?”

 

Valka lifted one corner of his mouth reluctantly.  _ When you went to see your uncle and rendered me back into Cylarne, that I died and lost my daggers. When you went to see your fiancee. Though admittedly that time was at my request.  _ He kept silence as he turned toward the door, flexing his shoulders. The thing had to be got through.

 

\---

 

Zulkan and the other three survivors had prostrated themselves before the Ascended one when they realized his nephew had escaped with the daedra and the ring, but there had been no overt penalty, though all of them had sensed the disappointment of the one who was greater in His service. He was merciful. And in any case, what was Eldrin going to do? Report him to the temple and the guards, and ruin his own family as well? It would never happen. Sister Lallhui was worried that he might expose her to her father, since she was certain he had recognized her face, but Zulkan had been able to persuade her that Eldrin could not do that without risking his own family's involvement also being revealed.

 

“I know that this must be referred to our Elder Brother,” Zulkan said afterward at the cavern entrance, hand on her shoulder. “I am not afraid to accept responsibility. But you know that, while the death of Brother Handun weighs heavy on all of us, the loss of two ash servants is little. They will rise again.”

 

Lallhui nodded quickly, wiping away a tear. “Poor Handun. He was getting ready to bring his wife, too.”

 

“Well, perhaps you should make a visit to her and bring to her a gift,” Zulkan said. “Tell her that you knew him at Temple.” He knew Handun had been telling his wife that he was making pilgrimages to a local shrine, attempting to improve his fortunes in his smithing business by increasing his devotion to Ayem.

 

Lallhui's face split in a slow smile. She was a beautiful girl. Zulkan had never failed to notice.

 

“That's a good idea, Brother Zulkan,” she said, and hugged him. He patted her carefully, enjoying the sensation of her breasts pressed against his body.

 

“All right. Until we meet again, Sister.”

 

And he doffed the robe and went home to wash up, pay a little attention to La'zira, and eat a small meal. Then he went into the downstairs library, now a workroom, to spend some time working clay for small amulets. The year was not yet waning, but it would be a good idea to lay in a stock of weak cold resistances for when the cool weather came.

 

\---

 

Eldrin hurried through the rest of his meal. As much as he did not want to face his uncle, he also wanted to get it over with. It was still storming outside, so he threw on a blue hooded shawl and handed Valka the same olive one he had used before.  

 

Valka accepted it politely, trying to keep from feeling a glow of warmth that Eldrin had remembered. He put it on from memory and then had to re-wrap part of it as he went outside to make it fit better around the helmet.  

 

Eldrin leaned into the wind with his head bowed and fabric arranged around his nose, trying not to think but thinking too much as they walked. The words he would use when he spoke to Zulkan ran grooves in his mind.  By the time they actually came to the manor Eldrin knew he must be pale. The sickness he felt was worse than a hangover; it was deep and black and dreadful. He was sweating in his gloves but he set his jaw and hardened his face as he knocked. Valka was with him. It would be okay.

 

Bakes-Fine-Breads answered the door, as usual.

 

“Good morning, Master Eldrin,” she said politely, as if nothing had happened. From her perspective nothing had. “Your uncle is in the library working, will you join him there?”

 

“Yes,” Eldrin said stiffly, glancing only briefly at her. He pulled the hood down as he stepped inside, but unlike usual he made no move to take it off to hand to the servant. He continued on without a second look at her, anger and purpose in his movements.

 

Bakes-Fine-Breads stared after them in confusion, then shrugged and went to the kitchen. It wasn't her problem, and she hadn't been asked not to let Eldrin in as usual. The worst she would get was a lethargic scolding if Zulkan felt she'd done wrong. The mer was much too lazy to beat his servants. It was one of his better qualities, in her opinion.

 

Eldrin's heart was thudding faster but not for fear of his physical safety. He stopped just inside the doorway to the library, giving Valka room to come in after him, fists balled at his sides. His scowl deepened when his eyes landed on the shape of his uncle, working away as if everything were normal, as if he weren't a despicable, murderous heretic. His mouth had suddenly gone dry, and Eldrin was proud that he was able to keep his voice level as he forced out a single dark word.

 

“Why?”

 

The library was the largest room in the downstairs, even larger than the dining room, and all four walls were fitted with shelves. Most of the books had been purchased in job-lots in Balmora for their matched height and binding and were bland historical or religious texts.  _ The Real Berenziah  _ might raise some eyebrows, but it was old enough now that at least an argument could be made for its scholarly value. There were gaps now where Zulkan had been forced to sell off a few here and there – the copy of  _ Withershins  _ that Salla had cherished was long gone – but for the most part there was still a lot to impress if you didn't look too closely. There were still a couple of big comfortable armchairs next to a table that held a small lantern, and brighter lanterns hung from the ceiling.

 

The middle of the room was now mostly filled by a big worktable covered in bits of clay and tools. Zulkan stood behind this now, rolling out little bean-shaped green amulets out of clay. He laid one down and straightened up as they came in, reaching for a towel to wipe his hands.

 

“Good afternoon, Eldrin,” he said, quite calmly. He was a little surprised to see his nephew, but he concealed his concern. If Eldrin was still lucid enough to talk he probably was not so lost to decorum as to either kill his uncle out of hand or order his daedra to do it. If the daedra even took orders from him. Zulkan shot the Mazken a curious glance that was returned with complete impassivity. The creature was mostly busy looking all around the room, probably for threats.

 

“Surely by now you know the reason why?” Zulkan asked patiently. “Poor Kazi must have told you before your creature killed her.”

 

“That is no answer,” Eldrin snapped. He didn't move closer. He was not in the mood for pointless pleasantries. “You betrayed me, your own family, and you've betrayed the Dunmer people. I want to know why.”

 

“My own family are of the Tribe Unmourned,” Zulkan said. “Always have been. I put that aside for a long time for Salla's sake, but then she was gone.” He shrugged. “I could drink myself to death, or I could find some other reason to keep on. I found one. Of all people I would think you'd understand that, my boy.” He leaned both hands on the table as he looked at Eldrin, his eyes heavy under his red brows. “What I intended for you would have given you a purpose. I like you, you've always been a charming lad, but you're useless. You've never done anything for anyone but yourself. If you ever do nerve yourself to marry that Savil girl it'll be the first selfless act you've committed in your entire life.”

 

Valka's mouth formed into a thin line. It was cruel, but it unfortunately sounded very much like the Eldrin he had first met.

 

Eldrin's lips twitched, pressed tightly together. Every muscle in his body tensed. Anger and grief speared him. He was so enraged that he was actually dizzy for one fleeting moment.

 

_ That is how my uncle really sees me? _

 

“I'm useless,” he ground out. His shoulders heaved as he sucked in a ragged breath. “And who are you helping, uncle? Are the ones who become mindless slaves and monstrosities better for it? You can't do that to people!”

 

“Hypocrisy,” Zulkan said, waving a dismissive hand. “I might just as well say that they practice the Grace of Humility better than you do. Do your slaves serve for love of you, or because they have no choice? At least the servants of Dagoth Ur come to him without suffering. Were you in pain when you heard his voice? Or did you yield adoringly until your conscious mind forced you apart from him?” He glanced at Valka, raising an eyebrow. “What  _ did  _ you do with that ring?”

 

“Damn it, Zulkan!” Eldrin shook his arms in frustration. “I am not a slave, I am a free mer! And a slave still has his private thoughts and beliefs, those things are not  _ forced _ on them! If your cause was worth fighting for people would find a way to it themselves, they would not need to be coerced!” Eldrin  _ was _ suddenly, painfully, aware of his hypocrisy. He had tried to force his beliefs on Valka, although he had given it up quickly. His face flushed dark mostly in rage but also in shame.

 

He sucked in a breath, forcing his bunched shoulders down.

 

“The ring is none of your business any more,” he said coldly. “You aren't getting it back. If you try to, or if you make another attempt on my life I will out you to the Ordinators. I've sent letters to each of my friends. If I die those letters will be sent to the guards and you'll be finished. I'm giving you a chance, Zulkan. Stop this. Don't disgrace yourself this way.”

 

Zulkan shook his head slowly, still leaning on the table.

 

“Ruin me and you ruin the house of Llethri. I don't believe you have the courage of your convictions, boy, because I don't believe you have any,” he said.

 

“We could kill him and leave his body at the bottom of the stairs,” Valka pointed out, quite calmly, he thought. “The servants are not presently watching. They would more likely flee rather than stay to accuse you. I can break his neck with my hands very easily."

 

Eldrin could not quite keep the hurt from his eyes. He couldn't believe Zulkan was speaking to him this way. It was surreal. It was a nightmare he had to wake up from. He didn't take his eyes from Zulkan as Valka spoke and his hard expression slowly softened toward bitter, naked sorrow.

 

“Yes, we could do that,” Eldrin said quietly. “But I am no murderer. You can think of me what you want, Zulkan Narave, but I'm a better mer than you are. I'd dare you to come after me and watch me keep my word, but I hope for both our sakes that you don't.” He turned away with all the poise he could gather.

 

_ Coward. Liar.  _ His refusal to kill Zulkan had absolutely nothing to do with moral superiority. The world would be a better place with Zulkan dead and he ought not feel guilt for it. But Eldrin had loved his uncle. Some part of that emotion still lived within him. It could not be cut away so easily. It grieved him to even consider Zulkan's death.

 

“I can't stop you from doing what you want to do, Valka. But I ask you to come with me.”

 

Valka jerked his head as if slapped at Eldrin's words.

 

_ I am no murderer. _

 

_ Eldrin's hands on his throat, Eldrin's tanto cutting into his flesh. _

 

Zulkan looked from one to the other of them, and for a second Valka saw fear in his eyes as he registered the expression of furious hurt first on Eldrin's face, and then on Valka's. He straightened slowly as if ready to flee. Valka let him stew for a second, staring at him. Then he turned to follow Eldrin, turning the spear slowly in his hands. He wrapped the shawl over his face without looking at Eldrin again.

 

“I offer to save you from someone who absolutely will try to destroy you again and you call me a murderer? Cruel, Eldrin Llethri. Cruel,” he said quietly, when they were outside.

 

Eldrin was moving mechanically, his heart pounding in his forehead so hard that it was giving him a headache, lost in a storm of grief and cold rage when Valka's words snapped him to the present. He jerked toward Valka, lips parted in horror. He held out his hands beseechingly.

 

“No! I didn't mean it like that, Valka! I wasn't calling you that, I only meant that I wouldn't -- ”  _ I meant that I would not stoop to doing to Zulkan what he tried to do to me!   _ He stopped when he realized what that must have sounded like after what he had done to Valka. He stared wide-eyed and mouth-gaping at Valka in horrified disbelief at his own words for a second and then he shut his jaw and turned his face away. He stopped walking. Everything was caving in on him. His face crumpled in anguish.

 

There had been a time quite recently when Valka would have rejoiced in achieving a home thrust like that one. Now it gave him no pleasure at all to see Eldrin's face turned from him inside his shawl, shoulders heaving with emotion. He felt it as a stab at his own heart, inflicted by... himself. It confused and hurt him. He wanted to catch Eldrin in his arms and hold him, and that was impossible. He burned and ached, and for the first time in days he was aware of a desperate need to escape.

 

Valka sighed. “I believe you,” he said. “Perhaps I have dogged your footsteps too closely since you freed me, Eldrin. I know that your ways are not mine. You know that you can still summon me at need. I – I am dismissed.”

 

Without the ring to hold him here it was an effort of little will to cause his incarnation in this plane to dissolve. He watched the world turn to golden sparks, and then he stood on the hillside above Stipplehand with Eldrin's shawl on his shoulders and Eldrin's spear in his hand. The tears in his eyes were his own. They burned down his cheeks with fervent heat. He turned his face away from the city and struck out toward the North, walking slowly. The sky overhead was golden, roiling with purple clouds as the rain came on.

 

\---

 

Eldrin did not turn to look at Valka at first; tears stung his eyes and Eldrin simply could not face him. Then he registered what Valka was saying. He turned, one hand raising, his mouth opening to speak, but then Valka was gone. A weightless spark of magicka hit his hand and dissolved as quickly as all the rest. Eldrin's hands dropped to his sides and he hung his head, shoulders drooping. The wind flipped back his hood, tore at his hair, drove ash into his skin. Eldrin stood with his eyes closed on the street, tears leaking out only to be pushed sideways across his face by the wind. The ashy trails dried almost instantly.

 

_ I am the most worthless person I have ever known. I've added nothing of any value to any life that I've touched. To the person I respected most, I was nothing but a pawn. To the person who treats me best, I've been cruel. It would have been best if Zulkan killed me; I don't deserve to exist. _

 

Eldrin did not have the energy to scream or to sob, although parts of him desperately needed to do both. He could not bear the ash for long before he was forced to raise his hood and start walking, staggering half-blind through the storm. He started to go home, realized he could not withstand the crushing emptiness of his room, and so he changed course. He needed to be drunk. He needed all of this grief to go away. No, he could not go to Cat's Paw. It had to be someplace no one would know him.  _ Rat in the Pot, that dive in the poorer district. _

 

 

The main room was crowded and lively and a very drunk bard was playing a pipe very badly. Eldrin went below to the basement, dimmer in light and mood. The haze of smoke in the air almost glowed under the blue lanterns. This room was crowded as well but it was quieter, the place where tired laborers came to quietly drown themselves alone at a table. There were not very many people Eldrin's age; some looked twice at the mer dressed so much finer than everyone else, but most were oblivious. No one here noticed the broken plaster on the wall or the frayed rugs turned gray with dirt. Eldrin did not care, either.

 

He picked a table as isolated as he could get it and sat with his back to the wall. He rubbed at the tear marks with gloved fingers and smoothed back his disheveled hair, but it didn't really matter if anyone looked at him. He didn't even try to shake ash off himself.

 

“Sujamma,” he said in a dead voice to the barmaid when she came around to him, and when she brought it he immediately downed half a cup. The taste was bittersweet. It was defeat; weakness. The warmth was false warmth. Eldrin finished the cup and poured another. He could not wait until the memory of the hurt in Valka's voice was nothing but fuzz.


	22. Chapter 22

Neither Valka nor Eldrin noticed that they were watched, and then Valka was gone and Eldrin was moving on. The beggar, sexlessly enveloped in many layers of dirty robes, stumbled through the ash storm in a direction more or less paralleling Eldrin's. When he had vanished into the Rat in the Pot, the figure stumbled in between the Rat and its closest neighbor. The alley was half-full of dead dried trama and stank of urine, but that did not seem to bother the mendicant as they fell to their knees, swaying in the shadow of the withering vine. With uplifted hands they whispered and chanted, and magicka gathered about them and then shot upward and away with an appearance like a heat wave. The beggar fell dead, to be found much later; and five minutes later a young Dunmer with white hair and a white shawl went into the Rat in the Pot and made his way downstairs. His white lashes were long and thick, and the face that he revealed as he tucked the shawl down around the shoulders of his pale gray silk tunic was exquisite, high-boned and symmetrical. The tunic was a little shabby, as if it had been bought very fine but had seen better days; the same for the darker gray trousers tucked into prosaic brown moccasins. He had a fine, athletic body, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted.

 

In the basement he looked around as if aimless, leaning his head well to one side as if very tired or a little drunk or both. He wandered for a while among cushions and tables, smiling distantly at the occasional slurred suggestion, and eventually he came to the back and Eldrin. He sank onto a chair angled from Eldrin's, leaning one arm over the back of it as he regarded the other mer.

 

“Mazte,” he said to the barmaid. His voice was deep and resonant.

 

Eldrin was on his fourth cup when movement at his side caught his attention and he raised his eyes to the other mer, a bit glassy and unfocused. He'd been resting his cheek on his palm and the distant music upstairs was beginning to sound not too awful. He himself felt nearly as awful as before even as he grew detached. He glanced at the newcomer once before his eyes rolled back toward the room. Then he looked again, this time dropping his hand from his face and turning his entire head as he scanned the mer from head to toe. He turned away again, swaying slightly as he took another drink. Just  _ seeing _ an attractive person close to his own age hurt him.

 

The other Dunmer paid the barmaid, deftly twisting the coin between his fingers into her hand as he accepted the cup. He took a small swallow and set it on the table, putting his tongue out to touch his lips.

 

“Is your heart also broken, my friend?” he asked.

 

Eldrin laughed. He was almost certain that wasn't meant as a joke, but it struck him as one all the same.

 

 

“I suppose,” he said stupidly, turning in his chair toward the other mer. One arm rested on the table still, his anchor to the world. “That is a very cliched thing to ask in a pub.”

 

“I suppose it is,” the Dunmer said, grinning at Eldrin over his cup. “I expect I'll look very stupid if I'm wrong. But I thought you and I might be able to console one another.” His tongue touched his lips again as he looked at Eldrin through his lashes. “I shan't be offended if you say no. There will be other handsome young men, I imagine.” His diction was lilting and old-fashioned, and if Eldrin had been more sober he might have wondered why the other mer sounded a bit like someone of his grandfather's generation more than his own; but it might pass for an affectation, an artful attempt to sound more interesting or important.

 

Something light-winged fluttered inside his chest.  _ I'm being propositioned. _ This was something Eldrin had never experienced before, at least from a man. Women had tried. He found it very annoying. He ran his hand over his hair again and down his braid, pushed himself up straighter in case he was coming off like a sloppy drunk. He wasn't sure. He very much hoped not. Eldrin swallowed, trying to get his brain to form words.

 

“I don't see how anyone could say no to you,” Eldrin said. He realized what an idiotic non-answer that was as soon as the words came out. He couldn't stop his eyes from traveling the length of the stranger's body again and his face flushed, matching the heat in his groin when Eldrin realize he was already growing hard. He wanted so badly to be pressed against that perfect body, wanted to kiss someone who would return it with passion. Most of all he wanted to hold a throbbing cock that wasn't his own for once. “Do you.. Do you live near?” Eldrin's head swam. He couldn't believe this was happening.

 

The other Dunmer grinned at him. His teeth were perfect. “It's not far at all,” he said. “I was so hoping I'd find someone here tonight. It gets lonely in that old house by myself. Come on.” He got up to lead Eldrin out, offering to slip an arm around his waist to help him up the stairs. He smelled of dizzying incense and warm fabric and he was startlingly strong, practically lifting Eldrin off his feet if he seemed to stumble.

 

Eldrin was not so terribly drunk that he couldn't have made it out the door on his own, but he certainly didn't object when a warm arm encircled his waist. The solid body against his own was perhaps the most wonderful thing he had ever felt, or at least it seemed so to Eldrin in that moment. He stepped lightly, floating through a dream.

 

The storm was still blowing outside, and the other mer turned his face up into the ash for a moment, smiling, before he wrapped his shawl around his face and led Eldrin down a side street toward an old free-standing manor. Some of the little domes of the glass windows were cracked, but not broken, and the outside of the building was dirty, streaks of ash creeping far up the structure. Either there were no servants tasked with brooms and ladders to keep it up for the neighbors, or they were perpetually shorthanded in the way of many noble families whose fortunes had suffered.

 

The mer opened the door with a touch and a small flare of magicka. It opened into a high foyer that was almost bare of furnishings, and whose chairs and tables looked very old, but at least it seemed clean and recently swept. A couple of red candles burned in hanging lanterns. There was a double stair up and a single stair down, almost in the manner of the inn more than the design of most houses. A trail of fire petals led downstairs, glowing warm and red in the dim.

 

“Everything is ready,” whispered the other elf. The hand around Eldrin's waist slid down to cup the front of his pants. “And I see you're ready, too. Come on.”

 

Eldrin didn't pay much mind to the appearance of the house. Everything looked a little blurry in the ash and his eyes weren't focusing well to begin with. It wasn't until they were inside and out of the wind that Eldrin hesitated. It was a little too empty, a little too dark, and why would someone sprinkle flower petals for a stranger they'd met at a tavern? It was disturbingly premeditated. But then firm warmth pressed his groin and with a renewed surge of hot blood all thought emptied from Eldrin's head. His hips moved of their own accord to follow that touch and he was unable to stifle a soft little moan.

 

Eldrin turned, leaning against the other man and looking up at his face, one arm still braced around his back. The mer's white hair seemed to glow beneath the lantern overhead and Eldrin grinned stupidly.  _ Sotha Sil. _ Eldrin touched his flattened palm to the mer's belly and slid his hand lower to cup him back.

 

He found no hardness there; his hand cupped fabric and a substantial weight of little firmness. The stranger lifted one side of his mouth sheepishly at Eldrin. “I need a good run at it,” he admitted. “That's why I need petals and candles and... well, I know it is not the most puissant. It is thus that I find myself so often broken-hearted. But do not worry, I will be ready at the right moment. The bed is downstairs.”

 

Eldrin was slightly disappointed, but it was not that unusual to him. The men he'd bedded at the Silver Scrib sometimes did not get hard, or when they did they were not very firm. Eldrin gave the other mer a brief little squeeze and smiled.

 

“That's all right,” he said, and allowed the stranger to help him down the stairs. 

 

The stairwell was mostly dark, lit only by the orange-red glow of the fire petals. It opened out at the bottom into a low, broad basement room, again not unlike the structure of the one at the inn, but there were no side rooms at all, or their walls had at some point been removed. Instead the edges of the room were hung with heavy curtains of pale linen, moving gently in the draft from the stairs. They were stained and unmatched, as if someone had taken every big square of almost-white fabric they could possibly find and hung them willy-nilly. The edges of some were stitched together with thread of white or black or gray or red, with no seeming pattern between them. They hung in folds over the edges of carpets that looked recently beaten but faded almost gray with age, only hinting at blues and reds where the scattering of petals around the bed lit them most directly.

 

The bed was covered in gray and crimson silks, a cream brocaded bedskirt hanging all the way to the floor on all sides. Up close it had an old-fashioned pattern of scribs and trama vines. The pillows were variegated and mismatched – here a square of blue velvet, there a tasseled cylinder of yellow satin.

 

The stranger pushed him toward it, and behind him Eldrin heard the sound of fabric sliding on flesh as he lifted his tunic over his head. His body was smooth and flawless, little near-black nipples in his lighter gray skin. It was more gray and less blue than Eldrin's, and paler in color. He was hard-muscled and lean, individual strips of muscle visible at the edges of his ribcage as he stretched.

 

Eldrin wrinkled his nose at a musty smell.  _ This isn't right _ , he thought as he scanned the room. It occurred to him that this was possibly not the other mer's house at all. Maybe he was married, or maybe he had some other circumstance that prevented him from taking men home and so he came here. Maybe he was going to kidnap Eldrin and sell him into slavery. Eldrin giggled uneasily at that.

 

Eldrin stumbled over to stand with his thighs braced against the bed, visibly tenting his pants. He fought off his shawl in a manner that was not at all graceful before he let it drop to the floor at his feet. He was suddenly aware that it was a bit cold here, although the heat of drunkenness and his excitement had helped mask this.

 

“I don't even know your name,” Eldrin said, hesitating. “Mine is Eldrin.”

 

The other mer laughed. It was deep and resonant and a bit loud, sound coming back oddly from the whisperin curtains.

 

“I am so offended that you don't remember me, Eldrin. We  _ have  _ met before, though the circumstances were very different.” He walked past Eldrin and crawled onto the bed, stretching out on one side as he nudged his shoes off. “I shall have to see if I can make you remember.”

 

“Oh...” Eldrin squinted at the mer, following him with his head as he moved, trying to remember. He didn't look at all familiar. The other man was obviously poorer than Eldrin, so it seemed unlikely their social circles overlapped much.

 

He pulled off his gloves and let those fall on top of his shawl, then lifted his own tunic and undershirt over his head. The necklace caught on his clothes at first then dropped down against Eldrin's naked chest as he pushed the things off his arms and onto the floor. Eldrin's body was sleeker, his muscles firm but less defined. His dark nipples were hard.

 

He blinked down at the ring on his chest for a moment. It was half-hidden beneath the larger pendant. Looking at it made him think of Valka. Eldrin didn't want to think about Valka. He clumsily maneuvered the necklace around his hair as he lifted it and hesitated only briefly before letting it drop onto the pile.

 

He took his shoes off with his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had enough self-awareness to know he wouldn't have the coordination to get them off otherwise, and then he eagerly scooted over to the other mer on his side, propped up on one elbow. He could feel his own rapid pulse in his groin. He burned with need for this mer.

 

Eldrin stroked his hand down the mer's side, over the small of his back, onto his ass to press the man against himself. The touch was electric. He scooted his own hips forward to grind his clothed erection against him. Eldrin gazed into the stranger's eyes from his own heavy-lidded ones, face flushed and lips slightly parted. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

 

“How will you make me remember you?” Eldrin asked softly. “I don't think we met like this.” He brought his hand up to gently hold the mer's chin, intending to kiss him.

 

The stranger watched him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted very slightly. As Eldrin touched him he arched forward, laying a hand over Eldrin's back to run it down the length of his spine in turn. His skin felt oddly rough but it was certainly warm. Eldrin felt him finally respond, something startlingly large stirring behind the cloth as Eldrin ground them together. He smiled above Eldrin's fingers.

 

“Not like this at all,” he murmured. “Though you held me then as well.”

 

And in the center of his forehead a little slit slowly began to appear. It parted to reveal a third eye, crimson as the others, but wider, bigger, madly bright in the dark room. A pall of white spread over his flesh, and muscle and tendon and buried bone became sharper, more defined, his clavicles almost stabbling through his skin. A heavy, kinky beard of white hair sprouted from his chin and jaw as the hand against Eldrin's back grew longer-fingered, coarser, the nails digging into his skin. The erection pressed against his cock grew bigger and harder still.

 

“Of course, I looked different then.” He spoke as he transformed, and his grip was like iron. “My name is Hlavren, though I no longer call myself by the name of Nazthiri.”

 

A sound of whispering arose around them as the curtains began to stir, and all around them a forest of gray hands rose from around the sides of the bed. Some of them held shackles.

 

Eldrin yanked back his hand, face twisting with sudden revulsion.  _ Hlavren Nazthiri. _ He didn't even immediately react to that name but rather to the horror of watching the mer transform into something grotesque. Eldrin pushed against the creature's chest as he tried to roll away but the hand digging into his back held him tightly, and Eldrin screamed when more hands closed around his leg and his arm. They yanked him sideways on the bed and Eldrin thrashed, kicking and flailing with the leg and arm he'd been laying on to beat the hands away.

 

Dagoth Hlavren slid backward off the end of the bed, grinning as he gracefully gained his feet. His erection gradually subsided as he watched the six ash servants emerge fully from hiding to pinion Eldrin Llethri's arms and legs so that they could shackle him to the supports beneath the bed, arms and legs held wide.

 

“Of course, I was only a skull then,” he said. “But I was very flattered by the attention, I assure you.” His voice had not changed at all, still beautifully deep and rich. “Strip him. We seek a black ring.” Hands tore at Eldrin's clothes, sexless and yet somehow hungry as the dead eyes of the ash servants watched him. They still looked Dunmer, white-haired and gray-skinned, though their skin looked dry and cracked and the sockets of their eyes were dark and empty. They wore studded iron collars on their necks and dirty linen loincloths about their waists, and as they grabbed at him they whispered to one another:

 

“ _ The chairs. The tables. All confused.” _

 

“ _ This is not straight. This is too high.” _

 

“ _ We must put it right. We must put it right.” _

 

The ash vampire turned to go through Eldrin's discarded clothes, kneeling with the same sleek grace he had shown when he was disguised.

 

“No!” Eldrin screeched. Hands tugged down at his pants, some pulling in opposite directions. He heard fabric rip and the remnants of his trousers were pulled away as cold shackles clicked around his right ankle. He saw Hlavren move for his clothes and the world suddenly slowed with a heady burst of adrenaline that electrified his skin. Eldrin wrenched his arms from the hands that held him and kicked out with his unshackled leg.

 

His foot caught an eyeless monster across the face as he bent to grab at the Dunmer and Eldrin twisted, throwing himself into a roll onto his chest to grab Hlavren by the hair and yank him back. The movement actually aided the ash slaves in stripping Eldrin of his linen braies, cold fingers dragging the garment down his thighs and freeing his cock which was very rapidly softening.

 

Hlavren was taken completely by surprise. He had not expected the Dunmer to escape from the ash slaves at all. He was jerked off balance and ended up sitting with his head bouncing against the mattress, dropping the amulet onto the floor beside him. The ash slaves were a bit slow to react, moving after Eldrin with arms waving in front of them.

 

 

“ _ Where are the shoes?” _

 

“ _ Shouldn't leave the cupboard open. Shouldn't...” _

 

Eldrin heaved himself toward the edge of the bed with one arm, torso hanging over it, fingers straining to grab the pendant on the floor. He felt a hand close around his unshackled ankle, ready to drag him back.

 

It all seemed to happen with agonizing slowness. His fingers met the suede cord. He hooked it with a finger and flicked it up with a jerk of his wrist to catch the heavier amulet. His arm drew up, hand curling into a fist around the pendant. He had to use his other hand to actually slip the ring onto his finger, clumsy in his drunkenness.

 

“Valka!” he screamed like an idiot. “Valka!”

 

Hlavren heard him screaming a name, and guessed what had happened. He shoved a hand under the bed and came out with one of the hammers he had stored there. He had intended it for a more studied and ceremonial use, but needs must. Now he swung it as hard as he could at Eldrin's hand, muscles like whipcord bunching in his white arms.

 

“I call Valka!” Eldrin finally managed, voice cracking with the desperate, high-pitched scream just as the hammer impacted his hand with a heavy crack, an explosion of pain as multiple bones in his hand shattered, and a blinding burst of purple-green light.


	23. Chapter 23

Valka was not sure how long he walked, or how much time would have passed in Nirn while he did so. He could argue to himself that Eldrin needed him, but for what? He would not heed Valka's advice and he saw him as, at best, a useful friend of much lower rank. He had seen only Teris as equal with himself, and being set equal with Teris was no compliment at all. What kind of life was that, to walk behind Eldrin forever, interposing his body between the mer and the consequences of his actions? He could save only Eldrin's mortal life. He would not be able to stop him from eventually ruining himself with the people who controlled whether his life was comfortable or miserable.

 

His regard would never be returned, as Eldrin's regard for Teris could never be returned. What a bitter symmetry that was. He supposed it was appropriate. Now all he needed was for some hapless Aureal to fall in love with him and for Teris to fall in love with her and complete the quadrangle of misery.

 

_ Love.  _ It hurt even more to think that word, he realized dully. But it was the right word. To realize it brought him no swell of passionate joy. It brought him only further sorrow.

 

When he felt the summons grip him he stood resigned to it, head bowed. But the result was not the one he expected. He felt himself drawn toward Nirn, but then something burst around him, something shattered that he could not see, only feel. The will of the ring shattered, and he was hurled sideways into darkness.

 

Valka's feet sank into a thick rug. He spun, spear at the ready, silently screaming  _ No!   _ Eldrin needed him! He tensed further as he realized he was not in the wilderness of the Shivering Isles. There was a smell of dusty paper and leather and... tin? Iron? Some sort of harsh metallic scent underlying it all. As his eyes slowly adjusted he realized he stood between high walls. No, not walls, shelves. Shelves stretched away up above him and into the distance on either side, books standing in perfectly ordered ranks by height. He could not see the ceiling, only blackness.

 

The atmosphere felt like nothing he had ever experienced, heavy and oppressive and cold. The air itself seemed pressed into structures around him, forming and reforming implacably into new configurations as he moved. It brushed his skin strangely, as if reluctant to move aside when he passed through it. Somewhere in the distance was a sound of ticking, like a giant clock, loud and mechanical and repetitive. It disturbed him. His heart wanted to slow to match it, which was impossible, and every time his pulse juddered against that rhythm it set his teeth on edge.

 

He chose a direction at random and started to run, carpet springing back under his boot-heels with startling rapidity, the ends of the olive shawl flying behind him. The air still resisted him. It seemed even reluctant to pass through his lungs, making it harder to breathe. The shelves flew past without ever seeming to change. The titles of books that he could see were in daedric, in Cyrodilic, in Dunmeris, in Aldmeris, in languages that he had never seen that might be Akaviri or Dwemer.

 

Up ahead he saw a crossing, the shelves and the white polished marble underfoot giving way to an aisle covered in ramrod-straight gray rugs. Valka skidded to a halt, looking around wildly. Ahead was only the endless aisle. To the left the broader walkway, carpeted with more identical gray rugs, flat and without tassels. To the right he saw a light in the distance. He turned that way and sprinted toward it, legs aching with the effort and the thick air. It seemed as though he ran for an hour, but it was surely only minutes before the light began to draw nearer and brighter and he could see the walkway opening out into a larger space. Peculiar reflections danced over the mirror-polished white marble floor, refracted from something he could not see. Even the prismatic reflections moved in terrifyingly regular patterns, always the same.

 

In the center of the space was a thing like the trioliths of Dunmer religion, but four-sided, one face toward each of four aisle openings. The body of the mechanism was fully twenty feet high. It gleamed with the sheen of polished steel, showing Valka his own reflection as he stared at it. It had a broader base, a channel between the base and the tapering column itself, and in this channel were seated four pendulums. There was one on each face. They would have collided with each other had they not been in perfect unison, but their synchrony was flawless, monolithically one. As he drew nearer the ticking grew louder, and he understood that it came from the great metronome in front of him. From the top sprouted something like a rock crystal, but it, too, gleamed like steel.

 

There were alcoves at the ends of the aisles, he now saw. They were embedded into the ends of the wooden shelves. In each alcove stood the likeness of an armored knight. Their armor was sharply planed in a way that seemed impossible for any living smith, echoing the shape of the crystal atop the metronome. The helms flared toward the base and there was a tall spike on top. Valka slowed, looking around as he approached the great mechanism. His heart thundered in his ears, still out of rhythm with the ticking.

 

He had thought the helms had grooved visors, but as he looked at the one to his left he realized that there was no visor at all. There were no gaps, no way for anyone inside to see out. The proportions of the suits were not human or merish in any case, nor yet Mazken or Aureal. The waists were too small and the hips were too narrow, the thighs jutting at an angle that was quite impossible to the joints of any race Valka had ever seen. Above each alcove was a placard with words engraved in the daedric script:

 

IT IS FOREORDAINED.

 

Each statue stood with hands on the pommel of a sword. He knew without looking that each sword would be perfectly, flawlessly symmetrical: like the knights, like the metronome. A growing feeling of dread was creeping up on him as he realized where he was.

 

_ This is the Library of Order. _

 

It was a long time from Greymarch to Greymarch. The last one had been before Valka's first incarnation. In that day Jyggalag, antithesis of Sheogorath, would rise, would walk the land crushing all beneath his heavy boots as his Knights of Order flooded the land with slaughter. The realm of the Shivering Isles would be destroyed entirely, leaving the Prince of Madness to rebuild from the wreckage alone. Jyggalag was Order even as Sheogorath was Disorder, Method as He was Madness.

 

But in the long eras between the Greymarches all Order slept. And hid. And waited.

 

And the place of that waiting was here. The Library was not truly in the Isles at all. It occupied a space parallel, a layer beneath. To reach it deliberately was said to be impossible. He had never heard that it could be done -

 

A creak and a tick warned him. Valka spun around toward the noise in time to see the sword in the Knight's hand sweeping up toward him, and he jumped back as it  _ swooshed  _ through the dead air. A heavy steel boot clomped forward as the armor raised both gauntlets above its head. Valka jabbed at it with the spear, but he made only a small dent in the gleaming armor of its breastplate. The blow jarred him from head to foot, and then he had to jump back again. There was still considerable space between him and the metronome, the floor stretching vast between the aisles and the giant structure.

 

_ Creak. Tick. _ A second Knight was stepping away from another alcove. Then a third. The fourth was hidden from him by the body of the great metronome, but he heard it move as well. As the others moved, the one in front of him stopped, holding its sword raised in front of its helm in a posture that echoed the others Valka could see.

 

Their voices spoke in unison, dolorous and deep.

 

“There is an order to all things. There is a beginning and an end to all things. Time carries away all things. We see that order. We see that beginning and end. We see the whole of time. Who comes as an invader to the Library of Order?”

 

“I did not come here of my own will,” Valka said. His voice seemed to fall flat on the thick air.

 

“There is a beginning and an end to will. You have found the end of will. You will find the beginning.”

 

“I don't understand you,” Valka said. He watched as all four Knights raised their swords to point upward toward the top of the metronome, where the great crystal stood. Valka turned to look up even as he became aware of a gradually increasing whine, a high-pitched singing hum that seemed to start in the roots of his bones and penetrate to every cell. Sound became pain, and he clutched at his head with one hand as his heart froze in his chest. It began beating again without much pause – in time with the metronome.

 

“What are you doing to me?” he screamed at the Knights, but there was no answer. The reflections around him whirled faster as the beat increased in speed.  _ Tick. Tick. Tick.  _ He looked down at his skin and saw it beginning to lighten, to increase in sheen, and he felt the incredible agony of his flesh becoming hard gray crystal.  _ No! _

 

There was only one way out. Valka braced the butt of his spear against the marble floor and hurled himself onto it. The explosion of agony in his chest was almost familiar, welcome, an old friend, and he felt only grateful relief as the thudding beat in his ears finally stopped and the Library became darkness.

 

_ Darkness. _  He swam through the Void once again, through fear and sightless voices. He knew the way to the Library now, could sense its thrumming beat beneath the mad laughter of the Prince, though he wished desperately never to go there again. No, where he wanted to go was -

 

Was Nirn. Where Eldrin was.

 

He swam away from the Voice of the Madgod with the greatest of difficulty. He was aware of the sonorous choral intonation of Hermaeus Mora, of the warm and gentle mystery of Azura, of a gnashing furious voice of vengeance that must be Malacath. How did one ever find Nirn, without the voice of a Prince to guide them there?

 

A thread bound him, he realized. Without body, without sight, he was aware of something tethering him. It was incomplete, it flickered and twitched even as he tried to focus on it: the thread of the summons that bound him had been damaged even as the ring was damaged. But it was a direction. It was a path. He threw himself along it and forward, seeking any sign, any familiar feeling to draw him to his destination.

 

Powers and dominations wove all about him as he moved, an increase of cacophonous noise. There were daedra in Nirn, greater and lesser in power. There were mages and priests, some powerful enough to form nexi of power, to form their own strange little voices. With all of that crowded so densely about him how was he ever to find Eldrin? He followed up the thread as best he could, and the pull of the ring grew stronger as he drew nearer.

 

But no body awaited him at the end of his journey. The ring bound him to it as he approached so that he could not pull away, but he was still incorporeal, a trapped soul without vision or scent or touch. He was aware of dreadful things around him, black bleeding souls that had once been mer and now were something else, and among them one bright living pinpoint, hurt, bleeding black, but still exuding the warmth of life: ELDRIN.

 

_ DISMISS ME, _ he screamed, unaware whether his voice was heard or not.  _ DISMISS ME. DISMISS ME! _ He went on ranting over and over, desperate for escape. He was no use to Eldrin like this, bound and bodiless!

 

\---

 

Eldrin screamed and rolled onto his back, clutching his wrist tight to his chest. The necklace still hung from his purple-black fingers. A jagged edge of the broken ring had been driven into his flesh but Eldrin didn't even notice that beneath the intense, throbbing torment of crushed bones.

 

_ DISMISS ME _ a soundless voice suddenly screamed in his mind, and Eldrin thrashed against the hands that sought to pin him, uncomprehending.  _ Where is Valka!? _ Hot tears sprang from his eyes and Eldrin sob-screamed his anguish.  _ Valka! Oh gods, Valka is lost forever! _

 

_ DISMISS ME! DISMISS ME! _ the voice screamed out in agonized confusion again and again as hands yanked Eldrin's limbs apart, dragging him back to the center of the bed. He kicked with his last free limb to no effect and then that too was pinned.  _ It's Valka! Something is wrong! _

 

“You are dismissed!” Eldrin sobbed, shuddering with deep grief. Valka was lost forever and now Eldrin would die.


	24. Chapter 24

Valka was cast into the Void again, hurtling back toward the Isles, toward the Wellspring, toward incarnation. But then he would be trapped in the Isles again without a way to return to Nirn! No! Valka slowed himself gradually, forced himself about.

 

_ What is the thing that allows a daedra in Nirn to incarnate there, without the voice and power of a Prince? _

 

_ It is will. _

 

_ You have found the end of will. Now you will find the beginning. _

 

In the Void he was free of the will of the ring, of the bonds with which Kerghed had once bound him. Only by will would he be able to incarnate again. Not by the Wellspring. Not by the power of the Madgod. Valka pursued his way through the Void toward the cacophony of little voices that he now knew was Tamriel. He bounced between them, probably greatly confusing some conjurer seeking another sort of soul, and he sought the darkness of the Dreamers and the warm light of Eldrin. It was easier the second time, even without the bond to the ring – he pushed it away as it reached for him. He sought a place near to them, but not too near, not within their sight. He could sense the thread of vision as though senses had corporeal being, and he gathered himself beyond it as he began to try to remember what it was like to have bones. To have nerves. To have flesh. And gradually, from nothing, from the coherent power that made up the Void, Valka began to build himself anew. He had been brought back from disincarnation many times. He knew the shape of his heart, of his lungs, of the sinews of his arms and legs. To form them himself from nothing was incredible pain, but it was possible. In another second he would have bodily senses.

 

He heard his own voice hiss in agony and triumph as his knee hit something soft, rug over stone.

 

\---

 

Hlavren calmly walked up to the head of the bed and reached out to jerk the necklace from Eldrin's grip, freeing the broken ring from his flesh with a small spurt of blood. He raised a white eyebrow to Eldrin's semi-coherent sobbing as he examined the ring.

 

“I think your daedra has ceased to plague us at last,” he said, and smiled, all three eyes half-closed as the ash slaves finally succeeded in pinioning the weeping Dunmer to the bed so that they could apply the shackles. Hlavren looked over the broken ring as he walked back to the end of the bed. “Not one dram of power remains for my eye to see. You are nearly worthless yourself, and even your pitiful body holds more power than this now does.” He tossed it to one side. It hardly made a noise striking the rug.

 

“Now,” he said. “Your uncle has served the Sixth House faithfully for many years, and he would wish to see you live and join us rather than die ignominiously. We are minded to accede to that request. So you will leave this house as one of us, or not at all.”

 

The ash slaves began to sway to and fro in unison as Hlavren raised his hands. “Do not be afraid, Eldrin Llethri. This will cause you no pain. In fact, it will make your pain less.”

 

He began to chant softly in a tongue that was not unlike Dunmeris, but was much older. The sound of distant whispering gradually rose, though the ash slaves had at last ceased their babbling of service and confusion. And Eldrin would begin to feel the pressure on his mind that he had first felt from the skull of Hlavren Nazthiri when he held it in his hands.

 

_ Everything is fine. Everything is safe. You are one of us, my brother. _

 

\---

 

Valka staggered to his feet, looking around. The foyer of an empty house surrounded him, dusty rugs and sparse furniture. A trail of crushed fire petals led downstairs, and he could hear chanting voices just beginning to rise.  _ Eldrin! They have Eldrin!  _ He was naked and unarmed, flesh glossy with the effort of being made. A sob caught in his throat as he raised a hand to his hair and realized he had made himself again with it cut as Eldrin had cut it.

 

This was not the time to give rein to emotion. Eldrin needed him. He grabbed a chair and snapped off one leg, giving him a blunt instrument with one jagged end, and he started down the stairs.

 

\---

 

“No, Valka....” Eldrin sobbed when the ring was lifted away. It was the only piece of the Mazken Eldrin would ever have to hold for the short remainder of his life. Valka would exist in the Isles forever, thinking Eldrin had hated him so much that he'd never cared to summon him again. Tears streamed down his face, blinding him, and Eldrin heard nothing that the creature said to him.  _ Kill me, kill me, just make it quick and end this! _

 

But then Eldrin realized he wasn't being killed, that Hlavren was chanting strange words. They sank heavily into his mind. He tossed his head, the only thing he could do to try to shake out the voice. The chains clanked against the bedposts when he pulled fruitlessly at them but nothing stopped the fog of calm from slowly creeping over him and gradually Eldrin ceased his struggles. His heart slowed and Eldrin opened his eyes to gaze at the ceiling through his tears. His face slackened as the whispering voices once again enveloped him in warm comfort.

 

 

Hlavren continued to chant, and he could feel the mer in front of him beginning to fall under the sway of the song, succumbing to the thing that those fools who did not understand would call a sickness. It was not a sickness. It was a glorious awakening. It was an end to suffering, to fear. He understood perfectly why Zulkan had requested it for Eldrin, even risking the anger of the Ascended whose sanctuary had lost a member.

 

But he also heard footsteps descending the stairs behind him. He lowered his arms as he turned, ceasing to chant as he stared at the doorway.

 

“Who violates this sanctuary?”

 

The creature that descended the stairs was naked, purple-gray skin glistening in the light of the fire petals. Dark hair hung to his chin, and in one hand he held what appeared to be a broken chair leg. His ears were rounded and his body was sculpted muscle as he walked forward, green irises glowing faintly in the dark against his black sclera. He was looking  _ past  _ Hlavren at the bed behind him.

 

“Eldrin?” Valka said, but Eldrin's face was blank, staring at nothing. His heart jerked in his chest until he saw the Dunmer inhale. Then he turned his eyes calmly to the creature that stood between them, wearing the remains of a pair of gray silk trousers. He did not know how they all had come here, whether Eldrin had been kidnapped or tricked here under some pretext. All that mattered was that he was alive. Valka could deal with the guilt of having left him alone when he was safe.

 

Hlavren lashed out with a clawed hand even as magicka burst from his third eye. Valka faded back easily. He did not even try to dodge the spell. It struck him and rebounded, reflecting back to its source in a dreadful flash of green light. The ash vampire cried out as his strength and magicka began to drain away, and then he lunged forward as Valka swung the chair leg.

 

The next several seconds were very busy. The ash slaves continued to sway silently beside the bed at first, deprived of instructions, as Hlavren and Valka clawed and flailed at one another. Valka collected several bleeding scratches across his chest and arms, but the next attempt at a spell also reflected back onto the creature that he fought: he had paid his dues in paralyzation and poison and now the odds were in his favor. The ash vampire grew weaker still, and at last Valka saw his chance and drove forward with the jagged end of the chair leg, piercing the creature's chest. There was a basso roar that seemed to shake the floor underfoot and an expanding wave of sickening magicka, causing his stomach to feel as though the bottom had dropped out of it; and then the third eye shut forever and the creature imploded into a small point of light and vanished.

 

The ash slaves turned as one and charged the daedra.

 

Eldrin jerked awake, suddenly aware of the cold room around him. He'd been listening to a voice followed by other sounds but they were distant, inconsequential things. Now he was fully conscious -- first of terrible pain in his hand, then of a figure at the corner of his eye -- and he turned his face to see Valka standing naked with a club in his hand. Eldrin's heart soared with unspeakable joy, only to sink in terror as the six ash slaves rushed past the bed. They whispered with disturbing calm as they ran to flank the daedra, three on a side with arms outstretched to grab his limbs.

 

_ “Dismantle it. Break it apart. This does not belong here.” _

 

_ “Not here. Not there. The voice. This thing must be quiet.” _

 

“Valka!” Eldrin shouted, tugging at his bonds.  _ I have to help him! But how?! _

 

Valka felt a swell of relief to hear Eldrin's voice, but there was no time to think of that. He arbitrarily chose left and hurled himself toward an undead on that side, slamming the club into its head with all of his strength.  As it fell he turned and ran for the stairs, where they could not surround him.

 

Eldrin winced at the crack as the creature dropped with a suddenly concave skull, blood leaking from its nose. The grabbing fingers of the others reached out to Valka as they ran after him, still whispering babble to themselves. The one closest to Valka's hand reached out to grab his club.

 

Eldrin yanked reflexively at the chains. Every movement sent dizzying pain shooting from his hand up his arm.  _ Calm! Heal yourself! _ Eldrin groaned when he twitched the fingers of the broken hand, hoping that if the heal were localized to that area it might do more good. Blue sparks rose from and sank into his hand. The coloration slowly turned to normal as blood vessels mended and he cringed at the _ tik tik click _ of several bones realigning themselves. That part hurt, horribly. He had to release the heal twice more and when his magicka ran out the hand still ached.

 

Valka was peripherally aware of blue light in the background: Eldrin had been hurt somehow and was trying to heal himself.  He almost lost the club to one of the undead as the others tried to grab at his ankles on the stairs. He kicked one violently back and jerked the club away from the other, reaching out with his other hand to burden a third one. Five against one was no odds, and they were strong; but he was faster.  He flailed at the group in front of him with a long swipe.  The burdened one slumped away to one side, hissing and muttering to itself.  One got away untouched; but one took the brunt of the hit to his skull.  He bowled over the remaining two and did not rise again.   _ Four. _

 

The two scrambled out from under the corpse and clawed at Valka from the ground, one wrapping its arms around the Mazken's leg and biting into his shin with blunted teeth. Hard.  Valka grunted in pain as the thing's teeth pierced his flesh, flailing his leg as he tried to dislodge it. 

 

The third, the one that had escaped unscathed, stepped forward grab at his arm, trying to pry the chair leg out of his grasp.  Valka twisted violently with the muscles of his waist and belly, smashing his forehead into the thing’s skull.  A puff of ashes exploded in his face as the undead staggered backward.  Valka was left half-blind, but he could still feel teeth champing at his shin.

 

Eldrin needed him. Eldrin might even now be dying of wounds his magicka was not enough to heal. That thought spurred him on to a spurt of panicked adrenaline, and he dropped to his buttocks so that he could flip onto the hip whose leg was currently grappled and kick violently at the ash creature's face.  Teeth released the Mazken as his foot drove shards of skull into the ash slave’s brain; the creature rolled to the side, twitching and bleeding from its smashed-in nose as it slowly died.  Valka was aware of the fading motion as his vision slowly started to clear.   _ Three. _

 

The other one was dislodged by his frantic movement.  It rolled away, complaining of unshined shoes.  By the time Valka had freed himself from the corpse’s limp weight, the survivor had regained its feet.  Now it launched itself at the Mazken on the ground while the burdened undead lay struggling to lift its body from the floor nearby.

 

Valka rolled aside, leaving a smear of blood from his injured shin, and scrambled inelegantly to one knee as the undead crashed to the floor beside him. He smashed at its head with the butt of the club and was rewarded with an unpleasant wet crack-squish.   _ Two.   _

 

One ash creature still stood, but it was limping blindly in a circle, ashes falling from a cavity in its damaged face.  One still lay burdened, grunting and moaning:

 

_ “Who will put out the jars?  It’s nearly sunrise!” _

 

Valka gained his feet with a lurch and took two swift steps to the undead that was still on its feet.  He swung the club again, and then again as it went down, smashing at its head over and over until it burst into powder.   _ One. _

 

At last he dove at the burdened one, bruised knee skidding on the floorboards, and clubbed it to death before the spell wore off.  He could see again, though his eyes still stung.  The final undead was never able to fully raise itself before it collapsed with a throaty grunt, hand twitching briefly at its side until all movement stopped completely. 

 

Eldrin watched all of this with tears in his eyes and snot leaking from his nose, his good hand clenched and straining against the chain, lips parted around gritted teeth. But Valka was winning, his every movement purposeful and perfectly executed. Eldrin's heart ached to watch him.

 

Broken bodies lay all around the Mazken in a chaotic semi-circle and Eldrin closed his eyes, silently thanking Almsivi that it was over with. He choked on a sob but it was a cry of deep relief.

 

Eldrin couldn't move his hands far enough to wipe the wetness from his face or to cover his nudity. His entire body trembled, not only from  cold but also with intense agitation . He opened his eyes again to watch the blurry figure move toward him on the bed.

 

_ None _ .  Valka climbed to his feet and turned in a slow circle as he released the magicka to heal himself, nostrils flared and eyes wide as he looked for more enemies, but he stood in a circle of silence and the sound of Eldrin’s desperate breathing. He turned and ran to the bed, trying not to be aware of the cold, and hurried to unfasten the shackles. They had never been locked. They were shut with clasps placed on the chain connector side, out of reach of anyone held by them in the way Eldrin had been held.

 

He slapped a hand into the center of Eldrin's chest and healed him, then picked him up to set him in the V of Valka's legs as he sat on the bed, squeezing him tightly against the heat of his own body.  The mer stank of alcohol. The first thing he'd done when Valka was gone had been to go out and get drunk, the idiot.

 

“I leave you alone for one minute,” Valka said. His voice quavered with tears of relief.

 

The sudden absence of pain was a minor pleasure absolutely dwarfed by the joyous heat that encircled Eldrin. It was like lowering himself into a hot spring. Again Eldrin was pinned and unable to wipe at his face but he couldn't bring himself to push against the strong arms that held him so he leaned back against Valka's chest, head on the Mazken's shoulder and closed his eyes. He curled his arms up around the ones that held him, clinging tightly to Valka with his hands. He drew up his knees, Valka's thighs hot against his own.

 

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered in a pitifully cracking voice. “The ring - it's destroyed. I don't understand how you're here. I thought you were lost forever.”

 

“I have come to you through trial,” Valka said softly. “The breaking of the ring as I was summoned sent me to – a dreadful place, a place of Order. To escape from there I had to be able to summon myself to you, and at first I could only go to the broken ring, and there I could not manifest. Thank you for dismissing me. To be a bodiless voice unable to help you was the worst misery I have ever felt. I had to find my way back to you through the Void, by will. I understand now how daedra return to this place of their own volition. The way is hard, but it can be done.” He leaned his cheek against Eldrin's cheek. 

 

“You are so cold. Let me find your clothes – are they even here?” He looked around belatedly, reluctant to release Eldrin yet. “Why are you naked?”

 

In a pinch they could wrap themselves in the curtains and walk home that way, but at least he ought to be able to find some shoes for Eldrin's fragile feet.

 

Eldrin sucked in a sharp breath when Valka's cheek pressed against his own but he closed his eyes and savored that warmth. He could not really follow what Valka was saying; he was too drunk, but Valka was here and that was all that mattered. Then Valka moved his face away so Eldrin gently pushed against the arms that held him to free his own, so that he could drag the back of it across his face to wipe away the cold snot and tears. He felt disgusting. His skin was unclean after having been touched by that... that  _ creature. _

 

“Because I am stupid,” Eldrin said miserably and leaned back against Valka again. His head felt so heavy. The intensity of his emotions and the sobbing had given him a headache and he vaguely felt like throwing up. “My clothes are on the floor, but my pants...” Those were in tatters on the bed, along with his undergarments. Eldrin covered his face in shame.

 

“Oh.” Valka put an arm around Eldrin's belly and squeezed him gently, rubbing in a small circle above his navel, but he couldn't do that for long or he would have to start thinking about elytra carcasses again. He was in exactly the position he had fantasized about at least once, Eldrin's weight resting right above his cock, Eldrin’s back against his hard nipples, and now was absolutely no time to be thinking of that. Eldrin was drunk and miserable and needed to be cared for. 

 

“Well, never mind. I'll get you home where it's safe. Do you know where we are?” He held Eldrin's shoulders while he carefully extracted himself, so that Eldrin would not fall over, then let go reluctantly, running a hand over Eldrin's cheek.

 

Eldrin felt that fluttering-wings-in-the-chest sensation when Valka's hot palm touched his belly and the warmth spread to his insides. He turned his upper body to watch Valka as he moved away, raising one thigh awkwardly to cover himself even if there was little point to it. Valka had already seen. He blinked slowly and leaned into the touch to his face, resting his own palm over the back of Valka's hand. His swept over Valka's face when they opened, from his near black hair to the intensely green eyes watching him with concern to lips which looked incredibly soft – they were newly made. Eldrin wanted to preserve that image and carry it forever. Then his eyes flicked down Valka's body and up again. He hadn't looked on purpose. It was impossible not to.

 

“Yes,” he said slowly, still cradling Valka's hand in his against his cheek. He was distantly aware that he was still drunk and behaving oddly. “I can get us home from here.”

 

Valka looked down at himself, following Eldrin's eyes. He'd given himself the same sort of phallus he was used to having, a bit larger than was average for mortal species but not so large that it did not allow of congress with most. He was not circumcised. It was not a Mazken practice. The purple-black foreskin clung softly around the tip of the glans and protruded slightly past the end, like an unopened plant. Eldrin was looking because he was naked and Eldrin was sloppy drunk. Anything that might happen now would have no meaning at all. He smiled sadly and pressed Eldrin's head against his hip for a second with that hand, then gently freed himself.

 

“I won't let you be cold.” He went to get Eldrin's clothes. There were indeed a tunic and shoes at the end of the bed. He brought them to Eldrin as he looked over the bedclothes critically. They were not the same stained old things that the variegated curtains were. It looked as though perhaps the ash vampire had collected them new from different places, possibly stolen from people's homes by his servants. If it wasn't a bright day outside – what time was it here, now? - that might pass muster until they could get home.

 

He brought back the tunic and shoes. “Here. I'll make us kilts from the sheets. Don't try to get up, just kick one out from under you. I'll carry you back.” If a guard stopped to see what was going on that was all to the good. Let them become accustomed to Eldrin Llethri's daedric servant hauling him home from his debaucheries. Valka sighed at that thought. He realized now that he didn't want to know how Eldrin had ended up down here on the silk sheets, surrounded by fire petals.

 

“I am not that fragile,” Eldrin said tiredly, fumbling on his shoes first of all while he sat on the bed. Then he stood, swaying only a little bit and forgetting to cover himself for the moment while he picked up the rest of his clothes and wriggled into them without grace. His cock was a bit small at the moment thanks to the cold. He turned away, squinting at the floor to find the ring and wobbling over to it when he did.

 

“He didn't look like that when he lured me down here,” Eldrin said quietly, dropping to his knees on the dirty rug because squatting in his current state of undress would be embarrassing. He picked up the necklace, wrapping the cord around his hand, pendant and broken ring pressed inside his palm. “He used some sort of illusion magic to make himself look... attractive.”

 

“He – oh, Eldrin.” Valka paused in mid-tearing of the sheets to cover his face with one hand. He was embarrassed  _ for  _ Eldrin that that had worked. “And that would have been  _ appropriate _ , would it? Lying with a stranger in an empty house?”

 

“I felt lonely and worthless and he was there,” Eldrin said sadly, still on his knees with his back to the Mazken. He was aware of how pathetic he was.

 

“If you weren't so drunk,” Valka sighed, tying half a sheet around his own waist and knotting it at one hip. “Here, wear this.” He stalked over to drop the sheet onto Eldrin's knees. “Up, up. You are not worthless because your uncle says so. He said that in order to hurt you. Come home and wash up and go to bed and I will – I -” he faltered, then set his jaw. “I will be there with you. And you will be safe. And no one will try to hurt you for at least several hours. You will never be alone again unless you choose.” He cupped the back of Eldrin's hair gently.

 

_ I am worthless. I've always known it and so does everyone around me _ , Eldrin thought, but there was no use saying it. Valka didn't need to hear his self-pitying whining. He leaned into the touch at the back of his head, closing his eyes. Sober he would never allow himself to so wantonly savor Valka's touch. He was glad that he was not sober.

 

_ If you weren't so drunk. _ Eldrin's eyes snapped open and he jerked his chin up at the Mazken standing over him.

 

“You started to say something else,” Eldrin said, brows knitting. “What?” He opened his palm, picked up the ring. With his eyes still locked on Valka's face he brought the ring to his finger. It took two tries; he bumped his finger at the wrong angle the first time, but then it slid onto the pointer of his right hand. It could not go on all the way because the broken edge would dig into his skin.

 

Eldrin spoke with complete seriousness, “I order you to tell me.” The joke was in poor taste and he knew it. It was another thing Eldrin would never do sober.

 

Valka walked around to kneel in front of Eldrin, lips pursed half in amusement and half in exasperation.

 

"Don't be a little s'wit. If you weren't so drunk I would show you exactly what you are worth to me. As much as your mortal body could stand. But sober, you do not want me, and sober, I want you to remember that you were safe with me. I will be one who has never used you even when you were drunk and I wanted you badly. And I will do that because you are precious to me. Get up. Come home." He patted the outside of Eldrin's leg.

 

Eldrin was only capable of staring at Valka for several moments that seemed to stretch on forever, flushed and slack-jawed while a series of raw emotions shuddered through him like chills on the inside of his skin, cold followed by warmth. He was stunned, bewildered, but then something golden and bright and warm tingled down every limb.  _ You are precious to me. _ Those words made his heart beat faster. His cock plumped marginally but this was not at all noticeable hidden beneath the sheet on his lap. Eldrin had to say something to this confession which had surely been very difficult for Valka to admit, but he realized with intense frustration that Valka would not believe anything he said when he was drunk. Eldrin could probably not deliver his own thoughts in a gentle way, either.

 

“You do not know what I feel or what I want. At all,” Eldrin said sadly and pressed his lips flat in a pouting frown. He braced a hand against Valka's shoulder as he stood, holding the sheet to his groin with the other, and when he was standing he reached down to wrap it around himself and tie it. He was looking down at his slow and clumsy hands that had forgotten how to knot fabric, not at Valka. He was getting frustrated with the sheet too, and Eldrin suppressed the childish urge to cry and throw it down.

 

Valka stood when he was sure Eldrin was upright, hand out to steady him.

 

“That has always been the case,” he said gently. “You do things that make no sense to me, even having read some of your books. Here, let me.” He reached out to gently take the ends of fabric from Eldrin's hands and tie them. “Don't be angry. We have time to talk it over. Plenty of time, because you are going to live to a very old age because I will not let anything kill you. I am going to carry you up the stairs so you don't fall. Please do not argue.”

 

Eldrin again braced himself with an arm against Valka's shoulder while his kilt was tied, chest tightening at the Mazken's words. Then he pushed away to pick up his discarded belt and shawl. He held the former in his fist and the latter out to Valka.

 

“Okay, Valka, I won't argue,” he said softly. “But you can't argue with me, either. My chest is covered. Yours isn't.”

 

Valka's skin darkened visibly as he looked at Eldrin, standing there in his makeshift kilt holding a shawl in his hand. His face was so beautiful. He had never thought so before because he could see the little flaws in it, a little mark in his skin here, a tiny asymmetry there. But it was Eldrin's, and no one else's, and no other face would ever be exactly like it. He smiled as he accepted the shawl and wrapped it around his shoulders and head.

 

“Fair enough,” he said, and bent to pick Eldrin up carefully in his arms – he wasn't so heavy, a lightly-built Dunmer out of armor – and carried him up the stairs. He was aware that he was growing tired, having fought hard so soon after he was made new, but his strength was not failing him yet.  _ I can get us home. _

 

And if anything should trouble them on the way, he would rend it limb from limb with his hands and teeth.

 

At the top of the stairs he set Eldrin on his feet, arm around his shoulders to steady him. The wind was not loud outside. Perhaps the storm had passed.

 

Eldrin laid his head against Valka's shoulder and breathed in the scent that was purely Valka and tarnished by very little else. No soap, no ash on his skin, not even blood after he had healed himself. He sank bonelessly into that incredible heat and sighed very softly against Valka's neck, eyes fluttering shut as he absorbed another perfect memory that would pass too soon. He regretted it when Valka set him down, but Eldrin already knew there would be other such moments in their future, no matter what Valka might think.


	25. Chapter 25

The world outside was dark and relatively quiet for Ald'ruhn, moons mostly obscured by black clouds overhead. The wind still pushed around little flurries of ash but it was not a biting wind. They passed others going to or from the taverns, and some laughed drunkenly at the spectacle of a Dunmer and a bare-footed Mazken walking in bed sheets, but no one confronted them and Eldrin was too drunk to care.

 

As Valka had expected, their appearance was taken more for the aftermath of a wild night than anything else. He had to pause and stand one-legged to get gravel or glass out of his feet a couple of times, and at the door to the manor he stopped long enough to heal himself so that he would not track blood into the house. An Argonian could easily back-trace them from that. He couldn't imagine why one would bother. The Sixth House and the city guards both seemed to have a very Dunmer racial aloofness when it came to their membership. No one stopped them to ask if they could spare an eyeball or would like to borrow a spoon. That was something he found increasingly nice about this place.

 

Inside, the lanterns in the hall and in Eldrin's room had been kept lit. Tsamabi knew to do so when Eldrin was away at night, otherwise he might wake her screeching when he stumbled down the stairs. The house was silent, everyone else having gone to bed.

 

Valka picked Eldrin up to carry him downstairs, too. Just in case. Not because he wanted to hold him one more time while he was still willing to tolerate it. That would have been using Eldrin to fulfill his own wants, and he had already decided that was wrong. He set him down gently at the door to his room, resisting firmly the impulse to squeeze him.

 

“I think I'll go directly to bed,” Eldrin said somberly, slowly retracting his arms from Valka's as he was let down. He kept his face lowered. He was likely to pass out in the tub if he tried to bathe. It could wait. He lifted his eyes, looking at Valka from under his lashes. “Do you want to come inside?”

 

The corner of Eldrin's mouth lifted slightly. He could only imagine the fit his father would throw if he came down to the shrine for a morning prayer and saw the Mazken standing guard outside his son's bedroom door, wrapped in an unfamiliar bed sheet but otherwise naked.

 

“Yes,” Valka said firmly, lips twitching in response to Eldrin's. “I will stand inside the door. Regrettably I lost your spear escaping the Library of Order. I'm glad it was not an heirloom.” He thought for a second. “I do not regret the armor at all.” His weapons had guarded his life at different times, gained him advantage and rank; his armor had never been other than an encumbrance that only partly protected him.

 

“Well, that's good,” Eldrin said distantly, pushing himself heavily through the door. “I don't suppose you'll be wearing it ever again.”

 

Eldrin dropped his belt on the floor and the necklace on the bedside table – he'd been holding the ring in his palm all that time.  He didn't know why.  The thing was useless now, but Eldrin wanted it.  He sat on the edge of his bed and completely drained the bottle of water resting on the table, after fighting stupidly with the cork for a second and throwing it down.  It bounced across the floor.  Droplets of water escaped down the side of his chin while he gulped and when he was done he sat back, sighed with relief, and wiped at his face with the back of his hand.  He had not realized how dehydrated he was.  He meant to set the bottle back down on its base but it somehow ended up on its side.  It didn't really matter because it was empty, and Eldrin untied the ribbon in his braids so he could shake them out with his fingers. He did a very poor job of that.

 

He started to climb into bed still in his shoes, paused, remembered those had to come off. Dealing with his clothing was exceptionally annoying tonight.  He tossed the shoes away when they were free and finally, thankfully, he was able to crawl in sideways under the covers, the makeshift kilt trailing out of the bed onto the floor.

 

“Good night, Valka,” he said, and within seconds Eldrin was asleep with his lips parted, head framed against his silk pillows by windswept hair. One hand lay half-curled by his head and the coverlet gently rose and fell with his breathing.

 

“Good night, Eldrin,” Valka said. He stood beside the door watching Eldrin clumsily prepare himself to sleep. He seemed to get less and less functional the nearer he got to that state. It was inefficient. It still seemed odd that any creature would survive with that requirement. Presumably everything here needed to do it and somehow that helped. Now that they were home safely it was almost endearing. He had to spend several seconds picturing Eldrin eating to shift his mind from that track.

 

He watched closely to make sure Eldrin continued to breathe after he had lost consciousness. That was, after he had gone to sleep. Then he went quietly to get the cork and put it into the bottle and put them both on the table. It would bother him to just leave them all night. After that he settled in with his back to the wall by the door, folded his arms, and was still, watching Eldrin sleep.

 

Something had to be done about Zulkan. He could do it right now. He could sneak out of this house and go over to the other one and break the door and snap his neck and toss him down the stairs while his servants were sleeping.

 

But what if one of them woke up, saw him? It would implicate Eldrin. He wasn't willing to murder an innocent slave. Besides, even if he got away with it, Eldrin would be upset with him. Eldrin had not wanted him killed.

 

_ Shouldn't have said anything to him. I could've made him believe it was an accident. _

 

_ I would know,  _ he pointed out to himself, quite logically.

 

_ But Eldrin would be safe. And he's not as stupid as that. He would never believe it wasn't you. _

 

It was many hours later, some time after dawn, that Tsamabi rapped softly at the door. Several packages were waiting in the foyer and as Valka had no room and no closet, she did not know what to do with the clothing and shoes that had been delivered.

 

Valka opened the door, still standing there in half a yellow silk sheet wrapped around his hips. When he saw it was Tsamabi he slid outside and shut the door quietly behind him.

 

“Good morning,” he said. “Master Eldrin went out drinking and regrettably my armor was lost on a wager. What can I do for you?”

 

Tsamabi's eyes shifted uneasily across the Mazken. She held her ears very still. Whatever she may have thought initially, that explanation was actually the most plausible one and she looked up at Valka's face with partially concealed pity.

 

“Good morning. Packages have come from Bivale Teneran. Tsamabi does not know what to do with these; she knows they are Valka's but he has no place to put them. Should she bring them to Master Eldrin's room?”

 

 

“No, I'll come and get them,” Valka said, smiling at her wryly. “How fortuitous. If he wakes up with a hangover I'd as soon he throw things at me, not you.” He followed her upstairs to retrieve the packages, ferrying them quietly down to stack by the door first, then one by one inside as quietly as possible.

 

He never had taken time to clean the dried blood from his leg and foot, but it had mostly wiped off. Hopefully the smell was mostly drowned out by the smell of sweaty Mazken, or it could pass as an injury caused by walking barefoot through Ald'ruhn. He should have a wash before he went to put on his new things. Really he could have done it last night. But who would watch Eldrin as he slept, when all the house was quiet?

 

He peeked into the packages.  There were seven sets of tunics, trousers, socks and underclothes,  wrapped in white paper. There were also two fabric boxes holding a pair of leather boots and soft indoor shoes, not ornamental like Eldrin's but with curly tips in the elven style. The boxes were very fine things laced with black ribbon outside and padded with red velour on the insides.

 

Eldrin woke naturally on his own a little over an hour later. He was pressed face-first into a pillow, hair clinging to a cheek wet with drool. He spit hair out of his mouth and rolled over to stretch and rub crust from his eyes. When he was on his back his eyes suddenly opened very wide.

 

_ I almost fucked an ash creature last night. _

 

_ And then Valka told me I'm precious to him. _

 

He expected to feel the usual flood of shame associated with the aftermath of his drunken shenanigans, or perhaps dread at the prospect of being forced to deal with his uncle in a more permanent way, but he felt only warmth and tightness in his chest. The problem of Valka seemed more pressing to him than either of those others.

 

_ I was nuzzling up against Valka like a cat in heat last night,  _ Eldrin thought, and he was just a little embarrassed by that but he was certainly not regretful. He sat up very slowly, face flushed, looking for the Mazken in question.

 

The room was quiet, packages stacked neatly on the table. The door was just opening to admit a damp-haired Valka with the ill-fitting yellow silk robe peeled to his waist again. He found that he felt slightly more optimistic now that he was clean, ready to face Eldrin and whatever followed with relative equanimity.

 

“Good morning, Eldrin,” he said. “The new clothes have just arrived this morning. How do you feel?”

 

Eldrin's entire face lit with a grin, eyes darting to the packages.

 

“If that's the case then why are you wearing  _ that _ thing?” he said, throwing the covers off himself with such force that they landed draped over the opposite side of the bed, halfway to the floor. The weight of the sheet trailing from his waist threw him off when he stood and Eldrin realized sheepishly that he was still wearing it. He was mildly disgusted that it had touched his bed, his body, even though it had been clean.

 

He dropped to his knees in front of the paper-wrapped packages anyway, eagerly tearing open the first one. It was a dark gray tunic, not quite black, long-sleeved and form fitting and embroidered with curling ferns in a shade of silver just a little lighter than the rest of the fabric. They were arranged asymmetrically, mostly on the left side. The hems were thin strips of a brighter silver and the collar was short, not quite so high as some Eldrin wore. It ought to come down midway to Valka's thighs, with a short slit up either side. Eldrin knew there would be a pair of pants in the same shade of gray, and a silver sash from his own closet would complete the outfit.

 

“I just came from the bath,” Valka said mildly. He went to look over Eldrin's shoulder. 

“Well?” Eldrin said expectantly, holding out the tunic. “There's another with sweetbarrel flowers on it, if you wanted something with more color today.” 

 

Valka was startled at the fineness of the thing. Eldrin had pointed out with embarrassment that his clothes must be less fine than Eldrin's, but it struck him anew just how ornate Eldrin's normal garb was; this was to him a splendid object. He accepted the tunic willingly, staring down at it.  He donned the matching trousers first, then pulled the tunic on over his head. 

 

As soon as Valka took the shirt from him Eldrin jumped up to open his closet, to find that sash for Valka and also something for himself to change into.  

 

Valka stood looking down at himself.  The tunic fit perfectly, shaped to Valka’s body rather than trying to force his flesh into the shape of metal... plates...

 

“Yesterday you said something about never wearing my armor again,” he said. “But I will lose these things the next time that I am unmade, and when I rise from the -”

 

He stopped.

 

“I will not rise from the Wellspring,” he said slowly. “I can return here from the Void.” He groped behind him for a chair as his knees suddenly felt weak. “No more useless armor. No more officers and madmen. No more – no more punishment - ?”

 

Joy and relief washed over him in a crashing wave. He did not know how to bear it. His head felt light as a feather. Valka leaned back slowly, a tear streaking down his cheek as he laughed, a small, breathless sound. The ceiling spun dizzily above him.

 

Eldrin turned back from the closet with a robe draped over one arm and the sash in his hand. He paused on the other side of the room, smile fading as he watched Valka very soberly. This was a happy moment, he knew, but it was breaking his heart that Valka had been so miserable for such a long time. He moved hesitantly toward Valka and set the sash down on the table so he could reach out with that hand to gently cup Valka's cheek, wiping away the tear with his thumb.

 

“No more punishment,” Eldrin agreed quietly, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. Valka's laughter was a beautiful sound.

 

Valka's eyes flew to Eldrin's face, watching the room draw away from him in a long tunnel with two crimson eyes at the end of it. Eldrin was touching him, very deliberately wiping away his tear. Willingly, soberly, not panicked by fear. Tingling ecstasy subsumed him. He made a very similar sound to one Eldrin had heard before - “Ngh?” - and slumped, eyes rolling up and shut as he exhaled.

 

 

The head cradled in his hand was a sudden weight as it fell lax and Eldrin frowned, and then his lips parted as he realized with horror that Valka had passed out. The robe dropped from his arm as he braced his other hand against Valka's shoulder to keep him from falling forward in the chair. He quickly released a healing spell against Valka's cheek, cool magicka sinking into purple-gray skin.

 

“Valka! What happened!?” Eldrin's wide eyes darted rapidly across his face and down his body for signs of movement, his heart a sudden furious drum beat in his ears.

 

Valka rose from the blackness in momentary confusion. He had not entered the Void, but he was sure that for a moment the room had gone away – had Eldrin just healed him? He felt cool hands on his body, on his face, and almost rolled under again as the room spun, but managed to fight his way up, eyes fluttering.

 

“I couldn't bear it,” he said. He sat up, breathing deeply. “Everything just... went.” He captured Eldrin's hand against his face with one of his, then let go, aware that he was perhaps taking advantage of what was nothing more than concern for his welfare. “We have problems still, I know. But I am so glad, Eldrin. I never thought that I would be free.”

 

Eldrin sighed very loudly, his tensed shoulders falling. He let go of Valka and stepped back, slapping a hand to his chest.

 

“I thought you were injured. Gods, my heart is trying to batter its way out of my chest!” He ran an anxious hand through his hair, but already he was calming. He looked solemnly down at Valka's face.

 

“I don't think I'd call the life you'll have with me freedom,” he said, sadly. “There is very little tolerance for anyone who does not walk a prescribed path. I am beginning to see the flaws in the ways of my own people as I never would have before.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Valka said, standing up carefully. He straightened his new tunic. His arms and chest were covered with fabric. It was a pleasant sensation. He thought it would not be hard to get used to in this colder clime. He still felt a bit giddy and light, but the idea that he had frightened Eldrin was a sobering one. It was his task to take care of the Dunmer, not the other way around. “Perhaps it is, but it is a life less circumscribed than I have led. I am here with you because I choose to be, not because my only anchor is the Voice of the Madgod.”

 

Eldrin smiled, following Valka with his eyes as the Mazken rose.

 

“I'm glad you are here, Valka, and not just because I'd probably be dead by now otherwise.” He stooped to pick up the robe he had dropped. “I think it's about time I had a bath. There are shoes in those boxes, and this sash is for you. As for what we'll do with your things...” Eldrin tilted his head as he thought, eyes on the ceiling. “Maybe you can have your room in the armory, if we clean it up and move things around. It's the only place in the house that my father won't ever check so it works temporarily until I move out. I know you don't sleep, but it would give you a private space to go to and somewhere to store your things.”

 

Valka blinked rapidly. He had been pale earlier and now he felt he was darkening again.  _ A private space to go to and somewhere to store your things. _

 

_ Is this what it is like to dream of an afterlife, and die and awaken there? _

 

“That would be perfect,” he managed after a second. “I will be more than happy to help maintain the armor and things as well, if that helps.” He registered belatedly what had been said about shoes and crouched to look through the boxes for them. “Yes, go, go.”

 

Eldrin grinned at the flushing Mazken, grabbed up a pomegranate from the fruit bowl on the table to eat in the bath, and went across to the wash room.

 

Eldrin took a very long time bathing, even for him. He was very carefully choosing the things he would say to Valka when he returned.

 

_ You are precious to me. _

 

Those words did so many things to Eldrin. They were knots in his belly, fluttering moths in his chest. It hurt that he had this much power over another person, the same power Teris had held over him. It was a power that could injure Valka far worse than the ring ever could have. Eldrin desperately wanted to share every physical pleasure with Valka, but he also he felt... something, he didn't know the word for it. It was a kind of love deeper than friendship, but it was not the fervent, maddening love he harbored for Teris. Whatever it was might not last forever. Whatever it was might not be enough for Valka. But if Valka didn't know it, Eldrin would be using him.

 

Valka regretted the loss of the socks Eldrin had given him, but he found others in the box with the shoes and put them on, curling and wiggling his toes in the luxuriant feeling of soft fabric. The shoes felt peculiarly un-rigid around his feet, but he supposed he would get used to that. Eldrin's did not regularly fall off that he had noticed.

 

Since no one was looking he sniffed the sash he'd been given. It did not smell strongly Eldrin-like. He tried not to be disappointed by that as he tied it around his waist, adjusting the fabric around it.  He spent some time perusing the packets more thoroughly, for something to do.  He needed an ordinary task to ground him.  It all seemed unbelievable.

 

Eldrin washed his hair and his teeth very thoroughly and came back wrapped up in his robe. It was the plush lounging-about sort, tied shut at the waist and loose on his shoulders. The inside was lined with silky velk hair. His hair was still snarled, but at least it looked better flat and damp against his back. Eldrin padded barefoot to the vanity to pick up his comb, but he came over to sit at the side of his bed rather than in front of the mirror. He had a very sober look about him, and the eyes he turned on Valka were intensely thoughtful.

 

“Valka,” he said. “We need to talk about what happened last night.” He touched the spot beside himself.

 

Valka looked up from a soft robe and carefully put it away, then came over to sit beside the Dunmer.

 

“So you remember all of it?” he asked, as he settled onto the bed.

 

“I was fairly drunk, but not even close to being as black-out drunk as I usually get,” Eldrin said dryly, turning sideways on the bed to face Valka, one thigh tucked under himself. He had intended to comb his hair, but now he held the comb in his lap. He felt his belly knotting up but he forced himself to look at Valka's eyes and to speak calmly. “But just because I was drunk does not mean anything I did was disingenuous. I like you, Valka. I am very attracted to you. This is difficult to explain -- ” He turned his face away, brow twitching. He breathed and continued, but he was not quite able to meet Valka's eyes.

 

“My heart is so heavy with all these emotions that I don't understand. I still love Teris. And I have all this... this rubbish in my brain, things I've been taught all throughout my life, that Sedu -- that Mazken are tricksters and to love a daedra is filthy. Relations with a servant are nearly just as bad.” He glanced up at Valka now, briefly, his expression pained. Then his eyes dropped to his lap where he fiddled with the comb in both hands. “It's been difficult for me to come to terms with the realization that some of what I've been taught was wrong.”

 

Valka's eyes remained on the comb, on Eldrin's hands, as he listened, his own hands resting relaxed on his thighs. It was exactly what he had expected to hear. His mouth folded down unhappily.  _ I find your body attractive and you are kind to me, but it would not be appropriate to act on that. _

 

And then Eldrin came to the last sentence and his heart jerked into his throat, green-on-black eyes twitching upward to Eldrin's face. He swallowed against a lump in his throat. Then he said gently,

 

“Yes. That sounds very difficult. I, too, have accepted that some things I held to be truths were wrong.”

 

Eldrin's hands stilled in his lap.

 

“You've mentioned that before. You thought the same of mortals that we think of daedra?”

 

 

“More or less,” Valka said. “Eating still looks unpleasant to me, and it grieves me that you can end. But I do not find you worthless because of it. And I do not find that your thoughts are lower than my thoughts or your heart colder than my heart because you are mortal. I have seen you suffer. I have seen you try to do right, and struggle with it. I have seen your broken heart when Teris hurt you.” He looked down at Eldrin's hands again. “It is to your credit that your affection is not lost so easily, but I am grieved for that suffering as well.”

 

Eldrin listened quietly, then reached out without hesitation to lay his hand over Valka's, curling his fingers around the Mazken's. That simple touch felt so good to him and it took every bit of willpower not to scoot over and put his arm around Valka. He still had more to say.

 

“My suffering is so petty compared to what you've endured. And some of that was inflicted by me... I'll never forgive myself for that. You are – you are my friend, Valka. A very dear one.” He squeezed the hand in his. “I want more from you, but I don't know if it would ruin things between us and I want to treasure your friendship for as long as I'm able. I still feel that I have an unfair advantage over you. Not once since I took off the ring have you ceased acting like a servant and more like an equal. I want you, but I don't want to use you.”

 

Valka tightened his fingers slightly, laying his thumb over Eldrin's. He could hear his own heart in his ears.

 

“For me to act your equal in public is impossible in this culture,” he said gently. “I want you to live long and be happy and safe. You do not have an unfair advantage over an immortal who could murder you with one hand, you silly mer. Last night did I not tell you that I did not want you to feel used by  _ me?  _ I crave you desperately. But everyone in your life wants something from you that will hurt you. If what you need most from me is a servant who protects your life, that is what I will be to you. If you need a friend, I will be that friend to you for as long as you live. If you would have my body as either I would share that little death with you joyfully. But I cherish your life and health. I want you to be better, not worse for me being here.”

 

Eldrin's lips twitched up, amused. Yes, he knew that physically he would never again have an advantage over Valka. That wasn't what he had meant, but there was no need to clarify because Valka already told him everything he needed to know. The world was whittled down to only Valka as Eldrin set the comb on the bedside table and scooted closer until their arms touched. He reached up, gently touching Valka's neck below the ear, thumb on his jaw. Eldrin was hot all over, his heart pounding furiously to pump fire between his legs the moment his hand touched the smooth skin of Valka's neck. Eldrin pressed, coaxing Valka to lower his head so that he could kiss him.

 

“We are not in public now,” Eldrin said, and then he grinned. “What was it you said to me last night? That you would show me my worth as much as my mortal body can stand? Show me, as a friend.”

 

He felt Valka shudder as his fingers indented the skin, pupils gently expanding as the ring of green shrank. The Mazken saw him move and was ready for it, but he still felt giddy for a second anyway.  _ That's enough of that,  _ he thought, amused at himself.  _ He will not be impressed at all with your prowess if you keep blacking out from supernal joy. _

 

He lowered his lips to Eldrin's. At last the Dunmer felt warm as his body flushed with passion. Valka felt his cock stir lazily and he smiled against Eldrin's mouth, lips moving gently. He would not have to chase away that warmth with unpleasant images now. One-handed he untied his sash as the other hand quested downward to part the hems of Eldrin's robe. He caressed the inside of the Dunmer's thigh, fingers sliding over his skin, feeling its texture. There was no hurry. He had all the time in the world.

 

The touch to his lips sent a shiver of joy down Eldrin's spine and he pressed into Valka, tongue tip sliding out from parted lips as he shut his eyes. His hand shifted down to stroke along Valka's neck until his hand hit fabric and then he continued, rubbing Valka's chest over the tunic until he came to the bottom hem. He pushed it up with his hand, palm sliding across Valka's belly.

 

He stifled a short moan against Valka's mouth when cold air touched his rapidly growing erection and heat stroked his skin, thighs parting wider in an uncontrollable response. Erect, Eldrin was roughly six inches. His penis curved upward slightly and was very uniform in girth throughout its length. Circumcision was not a Dunmer practice either, but now the shiny purple head was exposed. A very light trail of dark hair began below his navel and thickened just above his cock and this hair was neatly trimmed. There was barely any hair on either the inside of his thighs or on his sack, which was round and tight and hung close to his body.

 

“Mm.” Valka's fingers found Eldrin's cock and stroked gently along its length, testing its girth and hardness with the fever-heat of his fingertips. Eldrin felt abdominal muscle twitch and relax under his skin, and then Valka broke away from the kiss in order to strip off the tunic over his head. He laid it out next to him with an almost silly degree of care as he kicked his shoes off – they were new and special things and he didn't want them stained. 

 

Eldrin fell back on his palms when Valka broke away, staring glassy-eyed at the Mazken as he panted softly from parted lips. He spent a moment appreciating the muscle that stretched under Valka's skin when he moved before he untied his own loose sash and shrugged the robe from his shoulders. The skin of his belly and chest was as flushed as his face, not quite as dark as his hard little nipples.

 

Valka leaned in to move his lips gently against the side of Eldrin's neck, a chuckle bubbling up from deep in his chest.  Soap and clean flesh and Eldrin filled his nose as he leaned on one hand, reaching down with the other to stroke between the Dunmer’s legs.   His fingers articulated the curve of Eldrin's scrotum and returned to brush along the raised ridge of flesh on the underside of the shaft, lightly, almost teasing. The new trousers would have to come off quite soon. His burgeoning erection was triumphantly straining the fabric.


	26. Chapter 26

Eldrin’s thighs tensed against the bed as he strained to push up into Valka's hand, clear fluid leaking down from his cockhead. Eldrin reached up to cup the back of Valka's hair and tilted his head aside to give him access, sighing. A corner of his mouth twitched up and his eyes cut sideways from below half-lowered lashes, although it was impossible to see Valka's face.

 

“What's funny?” Eldrin asked wryly.

 

“I never thought that in this moment I would be worried about my clothes. It is a stupid thing.” Valka wriggled out of his pants, erection springing free with a rustle of fabric. Fully erect his cock was just over seven inches long, thicker through the center than at the end. With the foreskin wrinkled back the visible glans tapered a little, gleaming nearly black, and the whole of the shaft tended slightly to Valka's right. He was completely hairless below the neck. His fingers brushed Eldrin's little hairs with curiosity. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and began to run them up and down rhythmically, thumb over that raised ridge on the lower side. His own frenulum was unusually pronounced, almost visibly throbbing as he kicked his trousers away.

 

There was a hot, exalted feeling in his head, as if he were soaring above himself. His entire body sang.

 

“There. Now I have both hands.” He applied his left hand to the back of Eldrin's neck as he sat beside him on the bed, finding the knot of muscle at the base of his neck and kneading it with strong fingers. With his right he continued to work at the shaft of Eldrin's cock as he continued to gently mouth Eldrin's throat, flicking his tongue against the skin.

 

“No, that's not stupid. Itsaah Vehk--!” Eldrin melted into the hot touch on his neck, hips twitching wildly as he tried to thrust with Valka's hand, trying to quicken the rhythm.

 

_ You've got to make him stop or you'll burst. _

 

_ Yes, in a bit. Just a bit more. _

 

It was the most pleasure Eldrin had ever experienced; it was shutting off parts of his brain. His eyes rolled up and he moaned helplessly, a quiet but uncontrolled sound. His belly quivered with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

 

“Valka,” he said in a tiny, breathless voice. He reached sightlessly out to Valka's lap, finding his thigh first before his right hand stroked over and then closed around the base of the Mazken's cock. Eldrin did not think it was possible for his own length to get any firmer, but Valka would be able to feel a sudden surge of rigidness in his hand.

 

 

Valka held him to a slower pace, refusing to speed up. Eldrin could feel him grin mercilessly into the skin of his throat in the moment before he moved upward to nibble the lobe of a gracefully pointed ear. His hand slid down toward the base of Eldrin's cock.

 

And then Eldrin had him, his hand hot and tight. Valka gasped and shuddered, losing his grip on the back of Eldrin's neck as he had to support himself on the bed. His cock jumped in Eldrin's hand and he almost exploded onto Eldrin's belly there and then, only the grasp around the root of his shaft stopping him. He laughed breathlessly.  _ Come on. I have better control than this. _

 

“Cheater,” he said. He felt high as a kite, blood rushing in his ears, little electric shocks seeming to flow from his cock all the way up his spine to try and melt his brain. He went on rubbing, drawing Eldrin's foreskin up over the end of the glans and sliding it back down again with each stroke.

 

“Ah..,” was all Eldrin could say to that, although he smiled lightly, exceedingly pleased by Valka's reaction. His first open-palmed stroke upward on Valka's cock was slow, experimental, his fingers exploring every vein and ridge, trailing over the curve of the glans. Then he closed his fist again, matching Valka's pace with his pumps.

 

Eldrin let his head fall back, one arm braced against the bed. The ball of his throat bobbed with little involuntary sounds and the movements of his hand on Valka's shaft became sloppy and distracted. The heat, the buildup, it was so much more intense than Eldrin had ever experienced. His toes curled against the floor.

 

“Valka,” he panted. “Valka, if you don't stop...”

 

“You're a naughty mer, Eldrin,” Valka said huskily. His eyes on Eldrin's face were half-lidded, hungry. “If you finish first we'll just have to see if you can fit me in your mouth.” 

 

“Oh gods, you'll choke me,” Eldrin whimpered, the upward intonation suggesting that he liked this idea more than he feared it. He shut his eyes, letting his world narrow to the firm, hot grip on his cock and the tingling buildup of pleasure that bloomed fuller with every stroke. Eldrin had to release Valka to brace his weight against both palms as he rocked his hips desperately, completely lost in sensation.

 

Valka did speed up now. He wanted to see Eldrin's face when it happened, in this moment when he felt great pleasure but still knew himself. He knew already that they couldn't come at the same time. He might hurt Eldrin with his clenching fist. He shifted his weight onto one hip so that he could sit up all the way, so that he could bring his left hand in to cup the Dunmer's testicles.  His index finger probing toward the flat warm spot behind them. He pressed it, suddenly and hard.

 

Intense pleasure exploded both from Eldrin’s cock and from within him, filling his belly with blissful heat. Eldrin's entire body went rigid as he came, sack drawing tight, thighs quivering as he spread them even farther. His dick pulsed furiously in Valka's hand, three long spurts of ejaculate shooting toward the floor in an arc. Eldrin's eyes snapped open and rolled back, head shaking from side to side as it happened. He gasped Valka's name with every crashing wave of pleasure and when it had ended he dropped back onto his elbows, legs twitching, chest heaving. His mind was completely blanked and Eldrin had no words.

 

Valka grinned at the repetition of his name.  Eldrin had let go of him.  He wasn't trying now, subsumed by Valka’s touch.   _ Mine, mine, mine,  _ he caroled silently with each stroke. 

 

He slowed as Eldrin started to come, loosening his grip, and moved his left hand to Eldrin's lower back, rubbing it in a circle. He didn't completely stop stroking until Eldrin stopped ejaculating. Valka was so, so hard, his cock nearly black with blood, twitching with every pulse of his furiously beating heart.

 

Finally he held Eldrin's cock in his hand as it began to soften. He leaned over to physically lift the Dunmer under the arms and set him on his knees on the floor. Valka sat on the edge of the bed in front of him, one hand on his knee. He curled the other into Eldrin's damp hair and pressed forward, urging him toward Valka's crotch. If there was real protest he would stop, but he thought from the earlier reaction that he knew what Eldrin wanted.

 

Eldrin was still trying to catch his breath when Valka lifted him up. His limbs had turned to jelly and what he really wanted to do was wrap himself around Valka and rest, but now his heart jumped into his throat and his face darkened even further when he realized Valka had not been joking. He gripped the outside of Valka's thighs in his palms, eyes flicking up to Valka's and then nervously away as he was pressed forward. This was something Eldrin had never actually done before.

 

Valka had picked him up so easily; he could manipulate Eldrin like a doll if he really wanted to. Eldrin groaned a little at that thought, barely audible.

 

He could smell the light musk of Valka's cock now. It seemed even larger from this angle and it was  _ throbbing _ wonderfully. Eldrin hesitantly opened his lips and moved them past the head, tongue pressing soft and wet against the frenulum. Eldrin moved his tongue from one side to the other, exploring the ridges under the glans. His lips ached. Pressing them to Valka's hardness felt good.

 

Valka's pupils were so large that they nearly swallowed the rim of green iris as he looked down at Eldrin, shoulders heaving. He caressed Eldrin's hair and then tightened his grip as he felt that hot, wet mouth engulf him.

 

“Ghan zhal'hazh,” he breathed, letting his head fall back. He rubbed both hands through Eldrin's hair, scritching his skull with his fingernails. “Oh... yes...” He thought the flicker of tongue would make him entirely mad. The muscles in his belly clenched and jerked in front of Eldrin's eyes as he panted. This was Eldrin, Eldrin who had been cruel to him, who had said it wasn't right that he even touch him, this was that very same Dunmer with his glorious soft lips on Eldrin's cock. He was safe and willing and  _ here  _ and nothing, nothing had ever been better than this.

 

His cock pulsed and quivered in Eldrin's mouth as he breathed faster. He was not sure he could delay it for long.

 

Eldrin smiled briefly around the pole in his mouth and then he pressed forward, testing to see how deep he could go. He hadn't made it to half Valka's length when he felt himself start to gag, so he backed off a bit, curling his lips over his teeth as he tightened his mouth. His right hand slid over and down the inside of Valka's thigh, briefly appreciating the thick muscle there, to roll his testicles in his palm. He nudged Valka's knee away with his other hand so that he could wrap that fist around the base of the shaft. He finally turned his eyes back up to Valka's face, blushing furiously as he bobbed his head up and down, alternating between running his tongue along the underside of the shaft and pressing against the fleshy ridge.

 

Valka let him back off, stroking his hair. His lashes fluttered as a hand cupped his testes, more warm and wonderful sensation. His world was Eldrin, Eldrin's hands, Eldrin's mouth. He whispered that name as he looked down into the Dunmer's eyes, toes curling into the rug.

 

Eldrin’s own organ was just starting to stir again, although he knew he would not really get hard. He couldn't believe this was happening. Valka's cock was in his mouth, so hard and so thick and it was Valka. Eldrin moaned.

 

Eldrin's moan produced a light trembling vibration in his mouth. It was one more pleasure on top of the others, sudden and unexpected, and it destroyed Valka’s last vestiges of discipline.  His back arched as he fell back to clutch at the bedclothes, mouth open as his eyes went blank and distant. Valka’s world exploded as his cock jumped in Eldrin's mouth, firing a rope of cum that held no generative seed. Then another. Then another. It was not quite hot enough to scald, and the taste would be very slightly bitter. 

 

The first surge of cum almost choked him and Eldrin closed his throat, eyes widening in alarm. His mouth was filling up very rapidly with what felt to Eldrin like an obscene amount of jism, some leaking past his lips, but he forced his mouth to tighten and stroked his flattened tongue down Valka's length. 

 

He kept on coming for what felt like a year but was in fact about ten seconds. At the end of it he slumped backward, letting go of the Dunmer's shoulders as he lay gasping. There was a ringing in his ears. Tingling pleasure filled his entire body with heavy, beautiful warmth.

 

“Eldrin...”

 

Eldrin swallowed around the softening cock and pulled back with a gasp, a strand of spittle connecting his lips to Valka's slickened shaft before it broke. Eldrin wiped seed and spit from his chin with the back of his arm.

 

He still looked a little bewildered, as if he couldn't believe that had just happened. Then he glanced up at the gasping figure before him. Eldrin grinned and rose to crawl onto the bed, hanging his legs off the edge so he could lie beside Valka. He wanted very much to kiss him but wasn't sure how Valka would feel about that just now, so he compromised by nuzzling up against Valka's neck and kissing him there while his hand stroked across Valka's belly. His nerves were on fire still and he wanted to press against Valka with hands and lips. He wanted to feel Valka's body breathing against him.

 

Eldrin did not think he had ever felt this calm or this blissful.

 

Oh, yes. Being touched again was beautiful, was heaven. Valka squeezed Eldrin against his side with the left arm that lay under him, and the Dunmer felt his chest expand and relax as he sighed. Then he rolled over, groaning at the effort, and slid an arm under Eldrin's legs so he could pick him up, kneel-walk further up the bed, and lay him down again. Valka flopped down next to him and wriggled into place facing him so he could pull Eldrin up against his body, arms around him. He sighed again.

 

“That's better. Now I can hold you.” He scritched the back of Eldrin's head with his right fingertips, lazily. “Perhaps I was ambitious.”

 

Eldrin's heart jumped, a furious fluttering against his chest as he was picked up. He turned on his side in Valka's embrace, one arm around Valka to slowly pet his back. He tangled his legs with Valka's, gently rubbing them together. He never wanted to quit moving. The sensation of skin sliding against skin felt too good.

 

Eldrin rested his cheek against Valka's chest, sighing contentedly. His other arm was trapped between their bodies, curled below his chin, and Eldrin idly brushed the backs of his fingers against the Mazken's hot flesh just to touch him more.

 

“What do you mean by ambitious? I've wanted you to do this for days,” Eldrin said. Briefly he pressed the flat of his palm into Valka's back, a sort of hug.

 

Valka's heart jumped as he realized how poorly he had understood Eldrin over the last week. He bent his head to touch his forehead to Eldrin's, eyes half-shut.

 

“I forgot how long it has been since I touched the body of a man. As much as you can stand was not originally supposed to mean once. How long until you wish to rise again?” On the word  _ rise  _ he tilted his pelvis forward slightly, pressing his now-relaxed cock against Eldrin's to make his meaning clear.

 

“Oh gods, Valka,” Eldrin laughed, and he pressed his darkening face against the Mazken's chest, shoulders shaking. “I'd  _ rise _ right now if I could but it doesn't quite work like that with mortals. Twenty minutes, maybe? I'm going to have to be careful with you; it appears you are not all talk.”  

 

Valka grinned into Eldrin's hair.  _ So mortals are easier to please. Possibly there's something to this reputation we have for seducing them. _

 

The Dunmer suddenly braced his hand on Valka's shoulder to push himself slightly away, so that he could regard Valka with a very serious expression. “But that.. that trick you did on me. What in the world was that? I've never felt anything like it.”

 

Valka let the smile fade as Eldrin looked at him, then frowned slightly in puzzlement.

 

“What trick?”

 

“You know,” Eldrin said, eyes darting aside in embarrassment. “When you were playing with my balls. It pushed me over the edge.”

 

“Oh,” Valka said. He relaxed slightly. Not for the first time, he felt sorry for Eldrin. But then, his behavior suggested that he was used to being the one to initiate everything. Perhaps he was accustomed to lovemaking as largely one-sided, the way that Valka had experienced with women. At least the men he had been with had badly wanted to please him, not just wanted to get it over with. He tried to imagine two Dunmer men making love. Probably there would be a lot of prideful argument and very little pleasure. Or maybe he was just jealous at the thought of Eldrin having other lovers. What a strange idea, that he should be jealous of a mortal’s attention, but he could not feel that it was wrong.

 

“There is an organ inside your body, behind your cock,” Valka said. “Without it your organs of generation cannot function. It is sensitive to pressure and can be a source of great pleasure. It can be reached a little from the outside, behind your balls, or from inside the ass. The translation from daedric is  _ lobes of joy _ , which sounds very silly in Dunmeris _.  _ The Imperials call it a prostate.” He slanted his eyes slyly down at Eldrin. “That is, I used daedric magic. Never lie with anyone else, for only I possess this higher knowledge.”

 

Eldrin's belly did the little flip-flop again and he pressed his lips to poorly hide a smile.  _ So this is what it feels like to be wanted. _ He still didn't understand what Valka could possibly see in him, and now he was realizing that he was basically a fumbling virgin compared to the daedra.  _ Perhaps you could stop being insecure and just enjoy it. _

 

“I don't think there's any danger of me doing that,” Eldrin said, patting Valka's side. “I've never had sex that satisfying before, but it's not just because of how you touch me. It's the fact that it is you.” He settled down to tuck himself against his chest again, hooking an arm and a leg over Valka to pull him close.

 

_ It's the fact that it is you.  _ That exalted soaring feeling filled Valka’s head again, producing a joyful swell between his legs before he caught it and suppressed it. Valka fitted himself sinuously into that embrace, arms still around Eldrin. With his thumb he rubbed between Eldrin's shoulderblades, luxuriating in the contact of skin with skin. He wallowed in it, feeling the satiation of a need he had gone ages without knowing that he had.

 

“Yes,” he said softly. “I have tried to please women and I have had men try to please me. I have never shared the joy of the body with someone that I cared for.”

 

Eldrin resumed his idle stroking of Valka's back from shoulder blade to ass. His hand lingered on that part a little longer than the rest, squeezing briefly before traveling back up again.

 

“Neither have I. Just whores,” Eldrin said. His voice seemed sad and distant, although he was thinking more of something else.

 

_ I can never share this relationship with anyone. Valka and I will never be able to touch in public. We can't even be  _ **_equals_ ** _ in public. I can never sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him during a play, I can't hold his hand while we walk. I'm sure others will figure it out anyway when they see the things I've bought for him. Then I'll be labeled a pervert. _ His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. Eldrin finally understood Iluni's pain in a new light.

 

“I'm sorry,” Valka said. His voice was sympathetic, but he couldn't help shutting his eyes happily as Eldrin stroked and squeezed him. No more did he have to steal little touches when Eldrin needed help and care. He kissed the top curve of Eldrin's brow.  _ Whores. _ Prostitution was probably something found everywhere that sexual beings were found. It also explained why Eldrin was unused to a lover doing more than the perfunctory minimum if he had begun with prostitutes as a virgin and not even known what to ask them for.

 

Eldrin's thoughts would not have occurred to him. This was such an alien environment that the denial of normalcy had no meaning at all.

 

“Well, never mind,” he murmured. “In public I will serve you, and in private I will teach you to serve  _ me _ . I think you will learn quickly, judging by today.”

 

Eldrin's nostrils flared and the hand on Valka's back stalled as his organ sprang to life again, gradually thickening against Valka's thigh without the urgency of earlier. He did not understand why his heart jumped when Valka said things like that but it was racing now, flooding him with heat and sending little shivers of excitement down his body. He also felt a little conflicted; maybe he was wanting something he shouldn't want, but Eldrin had come too far to turn back.

 

He pressed his lips to Valka's chest below the collarbone, a wet kiss using his tongue, and ground his hips forward.

 

Valka gasped at the unexpected kiss. He was growing harder even before Eldrin started to grind against him.

 

“Oh, you like that, do you,” Valka said. He had been fairly sure he was right, that Eldrin had enjoyed serving him with his mouth and not just the idea of pleasing him in general, but it was nice to have a strong confirmation. A strong, hard confirmation. “In that case I think it's time I further introduced you to receiving me.” He ran a hand down under Eldrin's balls to press his index finger against the flat again. “And for that we need something slick. I will be back.”

 

He disengaged reluctantly, running his tongue down Eldrin's collarbone in a parting gesture, and went to grab his robe. His erection subsided reluctantly and with some mental prompting, and he felt that fire waiting, distractingly present as he padded quietly upstairs to the pantry. His hair was still damp and slightly tousled. He started opening cupboards, frowning in puzzlement as he searched. Surely they consumed some sort of oil or slippery thing. They ate parts of beetles!

 

Tsamabi came in a moment later, hesitating in the doorway until she realized who was there. She smiled slyly at Valka's back momentarily, but her face would be neutral by the time he turned around. She had a feeling Valka was the sole reason Eldrin had not been a terror recently and she was grateful to him for that.

 

She bustled over to light a cooking fire on the raised hearth at the opposite end of the room.

 

“What is it, Valka? Master Eldrin is asking for his breakfast? She was just about to start.”

 

Valka looked slightly more relaxed than usual, and his brows unknit as he turned. Despite his unconventional apparel he still dipped his head politely.

 

“Good morning, Tsamabi. No, I expect he will not want breakfast for an hour or so, so there is no hurry,” Valka said. “I was looking for some oil.” He paused, realizing this probably needed some explanation. “Because he is thirsty.” They drank oil, didn't they? They drank alcohol, which was flammable and made from rotten plants. It made just as much sense to him. Oil was a source of useful nutrition where alcohol was primarily for intoxication, right?

 

Tsamabi set down the tinder box and turned to face him, leaning forward slightly and tilting her head as if she had not quite heard him, palms clasped thoughtfully in front of her chest.

 

“Master Eldrin wishes to drink some oil,” she said slowly. “This type of oil?” She walked over to Valka, pointing to a tall redware pitcher with a lid sitting on the countertop of the pantry side of the room. She lifted the lid for him to see, just to be absolutely sure. It was a thick, pale yellow-orange liquid and the nutty smell was very strong. It was not unpleasant, but Tsamabi almost gagged thinking about drinking it. She was quite sure that Valka was confused and that Eldrin wanted it for something else.

 

Valka leaned over to sniff the oil carefully. “If he were to accidentally get some on his skin, would it be safe?”

 

Tsamabi squinted slightly as she stared at him, her tail tip twitching slowly.

 

“Yes, it would be perfectly safe for skin...” Her face changed with a sudden realization and she straightened, moving briskly to open a cupboard and retrieve a second, similar pitcher so that she could split the oil between them. Tsamabi still needed to keep some for cooking. She considered allowing Valka to take the oil to Eldrin in a cup, arranged nicely on a tray with a biscuit and some scrib jelly, but she would not be doing herself any favors to embarrass Eldrin.

 

“This should be plenty,” Tsamabi said when she was finished pouring, smiling with her eyes as she handed the pitcher to the Mazken. “But, friend Valka, Tsamabi feels she should tell him that people do not drink oil. It is safe to touch and to eat, yes, but it is only used in cooking.” She quickly patted Valka's arm and turned back to finish her duties. She would be making breakfast for just Master Gilan, then.

 

Tsamabi heard a laugh that quickly became a cough as Valka suppressed it. He'd been very stupid. Thank the Madgod Tsamabi was a kind creature and had not immediately decided to denounce him to Eldrin's father.

 

“Thank you very much, Tsamabi,” he said, and went to carry the little pitcher back downstairs. He let himself back in carrying it in one hand with some aplomb.

 

Eldrin was hurriedly combing his hair on the bed, still naked. He'd been very flustered when Valka left but had grown a bit calmer while waiting. Now he looked up at Valka, flushing and suppressing a smile.

 

“No one saw you, I hope. I'd just about die.”

 

“Tsamabi helped me find the oil,” he said. He shot Eldrin a sidelong look through his dark lashes. “Don't worry, I told her it was for you to drink. She was very kind about it.” He set the pitcher on the table and slid out of his robe, draping it over the chair. Then he dipped the fingers of his right hand into the oil and rubbed them together, testing its texture. He dipped out a little more of it to rub over his phallus, allowing it to slowly grow harder as he did so.

 

“Ha. Ha. That's very funny, Valka,” Eldrin said dryly, rolling his eyes. He resumed his combing, but he was watching Valka intently. His cock had lost most of its firmness while he was waiting. Seeing Valka handle his own staff, Eldrin felt that pleasant swelling again and he was very quickly fully erect. He tugged his cock twice and stood, laying the comb down to saunter over to the table.

 

“Let me do that,” Eldrin said huskily, standing nearly chest to chest with Valka, resting his hand on the curve of Valka's hip. He let Valka's cock bump into his belly, almost touching his own. He dipped his left hand into the oil and stroked his curled fingers down Valka's length, smiling up at Valka as he did so, red eyes locked on brilliant green.

 

“Ha ha?” Valka said, not sure why that was funny, but then Eldrin's hand was on his cock and the question left his mind. He flushed darker and Eldrin felt him grow even harder in his hand. He dipped his fingers for a little more oil, grinning, eyes still on Eldrin's.

 

“I think you do that very well,” he said, his tone growing deeper and richer and more silky as he spoke. “So I think that I will let you do it from now on. Lie on the bed on your side, facing the wall.”

 

“Sure..” Eldrin said with a shuddering breath, heart suddenly in his throat and heat spreading across his face to darken his lips. He was not smiling anymore. He stepped back but he did not let go of Valka, instead wrapping his fingers firmly around his cock and gently tugging back to lead him to the bed, rubbing in circles with his thumb. He released Valka with a teasing stroke to the underside of his glans when Eldrin's thighs touched the bed and he slowly climbed onto it. His head was swimming, his heart pounding so loud in his ears that he couldn't even think straight.

 

_ Valka is going to put his cock inside me. _

 

_ Valka is going to fuck me. _

 

_ Gods, I'm not sure I can do this. What if it hurts? _

 

_ But Valka will be inside me and holding me and he'll be all around me _ . He stifled an embarrassing little whine.

 

Eldrin moved into the instructed position nervously, lying with one hand pillowed under his head. He wiped off the oil still on his hand by tugging his own cock a few times and then pulled his hair over his shoulder so that it wouldn't be in Valka's face or get mussed. He was thinking of all the times he'd ever fucked someone else in the brothel – none of those men ever complained that Eldrin hurt them, but then they were used to receiving and he was not totally ignorant of the proper procedure. They had guided him. Then again, maybe Avron was always so eager to offer his mouth just so he could get out of it? But Valka knew what he was doing. Eldrin trusted him.

 

Valka let himself be led by the cock, smiling very slightly. He was more used to Eldrin touching him now, easier to suppress the fast-rising urge to come immediately, but it still thrilled him from head to toe with an ecstatic little shock. He heard Eldrin catch his breath, suppressing some little noise. He lay down behind him, running his left hand over the back of Eldrin's head as he laid his right at the top of his buttocks, rubbing gently with his oiled fingers.

 

“Relax,” he murmured, looking at the set of Eldrin's shoulders. “I will go slowly, and I will begin with my fingers.”

 

He slid his fingers gently downward, rubbing back up toward the top and down again, slowly edging forward until he found the puckered little crown of Eldrin's ring.  Valka circled it gently with his oiled fingers, feeling for that moment of relaxation when the opening would almost suck his fingertip in. He expected Eldrin to be tense at first. If he had only slept with prostitutes he had probably not been accustomed to receive.

 

Eldrin closed his eyes while he savored Valka's rubbing touch, covering his mouth with his palm. He was surprised by how sensitive just the cheeks of his ass were -- Valka's hand there felt uncommonly good. His brows furrowed when the finger drifted lower, face heating. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was a bit embarrassing to be touched in such a sensitive, private place. He drew up his thigh to give Valka better access and tried to focus on that strange new sensation and nothing else. His muscles slowly unbound as his breathing slowed.

 

He inhaled sharply when the finger entered him, his ring of muscle clenching down before Eldrin gradually relaxed again. There was a slight ache, but it was a day-after-a-workout kind of ache, not painful at all. It felt  _ good _ , although not really in a sexual way.

 

“That's... nice,” Eldrin said, shifting his hips to drive Valka's finger deeper. He moved his hand away from his face to curl his fingers in the sheet. A very faint, soft pleasure radiated away from the point of entry and unlike undulating orgasmic buildup, this was constant.

 

Valka smiled and kissed the back of Eldrin's neck. He pressed in further, feeling the different folds and textures with his fingertips as he felt against that inner wall, toward the front of Eldrin's body. There was a little harder lump under his fingers. “And here we are.” He pressed it gently, held for a few seconds, and let off, then did it again. “This is what I want you to feel when I enter you with my cock – but much more so.”

 

“Ah.... Ah.” Eldrin's fingers tightened in the sheet, eyes rolling up. Warm pleasure spiked from that spot and suffused through his lower body, tingling over his cock which drooled onto the bed. He wiggled his hips mindlessly, trying to get more of  _ that. _

 

“I want your cock inside me,” Eldrin whined, pushing back on Valka again. He felt hot all over, his entire body flushed, breathing through flared nostrils.

 

“Stop your mortal whining.” Valka's tone was amused. Afterward he quailed inwardly for a second, not completely sure if that was going to be acceptable or not. He had already been somewhat domineering with Eldrin, when Eldrin had at one point literally owned him, and he was still not completely sure if the total reversal of that situation in a sexual context would be -

 

_ He just said he wants your cock inside him. I think you can stop worrying about it. _

 

He retracted his fingers, pressing the puckered edges apart firmly but carefully, and guided the head of his cock into Eldrin's ass, careful of the sensitive edges of his foreskin. Eldrin felt him shudder as he felt that tight warmth all around him, slick with oil, hot with passion.  _ I am inside Eldrin.  _ He tucked his arm around Eldrin's waist to get better leverage, to press them close together at a better angle.  That left him out of contact with Eldrin’s upper back, but it felt so, so nice to have his cock just so...

 

A firm shove directed the head against that little lobed spot inside, then scraped past it as he pushed the full length of the shaft inside all the way to the hilt. His pelvis bumped against Eldrin's hips, flattening his buttocks briefly. Then he withdrew about an inch and a half and thrust again, not too fast. And again.

 

“Do you like that?” he said harshly, reaching forward to stroke Eldrin's cock with his right hand as he snaked his left around to take over holding them together. “You are mine now.”

 

Eldrin moaned, eyes tightening shut. He pressed his face against the bed. The achy feeling amplified to a burn as his walls were forced open. The cock impaling him felt truly massive from the inside and for a moment Eldrin feared there would be no end to it as it pushed deeper. This was not like Valka's finger at all. His anal ring stretching wider was that strange, non-sexual pleasure even with the burn, and there Eldrin could feel Valka's throbbing heart through his cock. He could feel Valka in less detail deeper inside his body and the pressure made him slightly nauseous, like his guts were being rearranged from within. Valka was wonderfully stiff pressing him open. It was also overwhelming. It was almost too much to stand, but every stroke granted a radiating pleasure of such intensity that Eldrin felt in danger of blacking out.

 

He tried to reply to Valka --  _ Yes, I'm yours _ \-- but the only sound he seemed capable of making was another desperate whine. His cock jumped in Valka's hand, clear fluid dribbling almost constantly from the tip. That was another strange new sensation dwarfed by mind-numbing pleasure. Eldrin ached to press his lips and hands against Valka but he was prevented from that, pinned in place by the rod spearing his ass and the arm around his waist. He could only reach back to brace one hand against Valka's hip.

 

There was no real build up. Eldrin sat on the brink of orgasm with every thrust for what seemed like forever and there was no warning at all when he tipped over the edge. Pleasure and warmth exploded inside him and spread to his cock. It was not the explosive ejaculation Eldrin was used to. He leaked continuously and without force as he rode the orgasm for what felt like minutes, every muscle of his body quivering, fingers tightening on Valka's hip. He moaned loudly throughout, lips parted and eyes rolled up, completely blind to his surroundings. He knew only heat and Valka and pleasure.

 

Valka was worried for a second as he heard that little mewling noise, but then Eldrin reached back to brace against his hip, helping him thrust:  _ more.  _ He grinned into Eldrin's hair and bent to rake his teeth gently down the side of Eldrin's throat, ending in gently biting the muscle that connected his shoulder and neck. It felt so  _ good  _ to hold someone who wanted him there, who had no motive other than his pleasure and Eldrin's pleasure.

 

At what point should he allow himself to come? Holding back was increasingly difficult as Eldrin's guts tightened and shifted around him, and he even felt that taut little ring quiver around his cock as he thrust in and out, balls slapping forward against Eldrin's with each thrust.

 

And then he felt Eldrin's cock shiver in his hand as the orgasm began, not the harder explosion of his first one but a gentler ongoing series of contractions, and he heard the Dunmer's helpless noises and he could no longer stand it. His cock shuddered and jumped inside Eldrin as he started to come, and he clung tighter to Eldrin with his left arm, forcing his fingers not to tighten too hard on his lover's throbbing mast. There was no preventing it entirely. He hardly knew his own name in that moment. Even more glorious heat spread around the glans as he filled Eldrin from the inside, a very different sensation from his mouth but exquisite, irresistible. Eldrin both felt and heard him moan, a guttural noise that was almost a growl, as his lips remained pressed to the juncture of Eldrin's shoulder and neck.

 

It went on for Eldrin longer than it did for him. He kept on pushing gently for as long as he thought Eldrin kept coming. He could keep his cock hard after ejaculation for a little while, not indefinitely; eventually the butterfly-wings feeling of encroaching softness would creep up from within.

 

Eldrin became aware of the liquid fire pooled inside only when his own orgasm began to slowly subside, the muscles of his belly contracting with every shuddering breath, ass pushed back against Valka's lap.  _ Valka is cumming inside me! _ He was still twitching with little tremors of bliss when he felt Valka begin to soften, his own cock wilting in Valka's grip. Eldrin never wanted Valka to withdraw. He wanted this perfect moment of oneness and fullness and warm afterglow to last forever. Eldrin shifted onto his shoulders, bringing his hand up to Valka's chin to urgently press him into a hard kiss. His eyes were wild, unfocused.

 

Valka's lips met Eldrin's hungrily, vibrating gently with a little breathless laugh of joy and disbelief as he squeezed Eldrin's body against him. He loosened his grasp only so that his lover could breathe.

 

“You have such a perfect ass,” he whispered, and kissed him again. “The gate of all pleasure.” He felt suffused with that beautiful glowing lassitude again, something he had felt only with Eldrin, his muscles feeling heavy and lazy now that he had come for the second time. Now that he had time to think about his own sensations he was giddily aware that he and Eldrin were still physically one, and it thrilled him in a way beyond the mere physiology of sex. It took him back to that moment when he had blacked out for sheer joy of freedom and the realization of Eldrin's touch, and he felt literally dizzy for a second, but now he was already lying down and it passed off after a moment. He sighed, nuzzling Eldrin's cheek.

 

Eldrin laughed.

 

“And it is yours to have whenever you want it,” he said, grinning slyly. He might regret that later; Eldrin wondered if Valka did ever tire at all. Eldrin himself felt completely satiated, pleasantly drained, but his ass ached enough that he probably would not want to repeat this experience immediately, as pleasurable as it had been. He realized abashedly that in addition to the huge wet spot beside him on the bed, there was also jism drying on the rug. He could not let Tsamabi see that...  But clean-up would wait.

 

Valka chuckled evilly deep in his chest. Eldrin had no idea what he was offering.  _ You will. Ha ha, mine!  _ He thought about wiping his cock off on the sheets and having Eldrin suck him again just to prove to him that it was possible, but he ought not test his lover's limits on their first time. It was only common sense. Besides, then he would have to move. He lay quiescent instead, hand in Eldrin's hand, cheek against Eldrin's cheek.

 

Eldrin closed his eyes to bask in pure contentment, stroking his hand over Valka's hair and pressing their faces lightly together.  He settled his other hand over the top of Valka's around his waist, lacing their fingers together. Valka was sun-warmed stone and gentle comfort, his breath a breeze from Sun's Height on Eldrin's cheek.


	27. Chapter 27

“I want to stay like this forever and never leave your arms,” Eldrin said, sighing his bliss.

 

“Mm,” Valka said. “Well, at some point you have to get up and eat food. I cannot ravage you with timeless pleasure if you starve to death.” He was aware of the probable necessity of cleaning, too. Possibly next time they should use the bath with its useful drain. That would be much less comfortable for Eldrin, though.

 

It did offer another enjoyable possibility.

 

“But we could bathe together,” he said. “Wouldn't that feel good?” He was not even thinking of more sex. He was thinking of how nice it would be to have Eldrin scrubbing his back with a sponge.

 

Eldrin smiled and squeezed Valka's hand. He felt a very queer sensation in his chest, as if his heart were filling up with starlight. Sex was not hard to get if one could afford it, but Eldrin never dreamed he'd be allowed to share a moment of such intimacy with another person. Now he could do those things with Valka... strong, beautiful, perfect Valka. Eldrin would never be alone again.

 

“Yes,” he breathed. “That would be wonderful.”

 

He could feel Valka finally slip from his body, a greasy mixture of seed and oil dribbling out with his softened cock. Eldrin's lips pressed together in mild mortification, cheeks darkening yet again and he clenched down to hold it inside. He could not prevent some of it seeping out and rolling down the curve of his ass.  _ Oh gods, his cock really loosened me... _ He was even more aware of a slight sting when his ass had been vacated, but Eldrin found that he actually enjoyed that feeling. Valka's cock had done that to him. Valka's seed was inside him still. It almost made him dizzy with joy.

 

Valka patted Eldrin gently on the buttock as he withdrew, aware of the Dunmer's darkening complexion.

 

“No shame,” he said as he rolled up to his knees, bending down to kiss Eldrin on the shoulder. “A genuine pleasure is a little mess. It is part of being alive.” 

 

“I don't mind it,” Eldrin said, carefully sitting up on his thigh. He was afraid to stand. He just knew cum would be rolling down his leg if he did. 

 

Valka grinned unabashedly as he crawled off the bed. “Besides, I am the one who will be doing the laundry. I will tell Tsamabi you spit oil on it when I gave it you to drink. That should amuse her.”

 

He wobbled on his feet for a second as his lax muscles tried to dump him onto the floor. Staying upright won out. He laughed, almost a giggle.  He went to get his robe, staggering slightly, and gaily tossed Eldrin's onto his head.

 

Eldrin narrowed his eyes at Valka, frowning seriously.

 

“You weren't joking about that? Tsamabi's going to know I'm not stupid enough to dri-- Hey!” He pulled the robe down, grinning. He had never witnessed Valka being playful before. Valka's laughter and Valka's smile were beautiful, precious things and they belonged only to Eldrin. Eldrin sighed. His chest was filling up with light again, his eyes joyful and distant as they tracked Valka's movements.

 

“Tsamabi knows more than you give her credit for about literally everything, Eldrin.” He watched the Dunmer from the corner of his eye, unable to keep the smile from his face now. He had a strange vague look, but he looked happy. That was not something Valka had often seen and it filled his chest with a tight, warm feeling he had never felt.  “I can hardly stand up.  If this is what drunkenness is like, I can see why you seek it out.”

 

“Drunkenness feels heavier and less joyful than this, but yes, I suppose it's similar,” Eldrin said, walking on his knees to the end of the bed to put on his robe away from the wet spot. “Are you telling me you've never drank? Can daedra even get drunk?”

 

“Mazken probably cannot. We are racially resistant to poison. Aureals, who knows? But the biggest obstacle to that is not physical inability but the fact that then we would have to voluntarily consume something and then... deal with the results of that. None of us wants to do that.”

 

He could describe Eldrin's genitals in any number of ways and talk all about what he wanted to do to them without the slightest shame and he still couldn't bring himself to use any word describing what he was talking about. He went to peek out into the hallway, opening the door just a crack to plot their dash to the bathroom.

 

Eldrin chuckled as he tied the sash loosely.

 

“It's really not as bad as you probably imagine it is,” Eldrin said. It struck him as odd that Valka would refer to alcohol as poison; but then, technically, wasn't it? To be unable to become drunk was a sad, sad thing. Or maybe it was a blessing. Eldrin wasn't sure. At least Valka would not tempt Eldrin to drink as being around his friends would, even if sloppy drunken sex with Valka was very appealing...

 

He stood and padded up barefoot behind Valka. The hall was clear.

 

“Go!” Eldrin said with mock urgency, poking Valka in the sides from behind. “I'm leaking here.”  Valka scooted across the hall, smothering another laugh – he didn't want to attract attention. 

 

It wasn't actually as bad as all that. By the time Eldrin made it to the bathroom his thighs were smeared with wetness but none had dripped past the back of his knees. He shrugged off his robe to hang on the back of the door when they were safely inside, then leaned over the rim of the tub to stopper the drain. It was going to be a tight fit for both of them. Eldrin smiled slightly.

 

“Two baths in a day. I'm going to be constantly bathing and constantly changing my bedding with you around,” he said, straightening to work the pump.

 

Now that the moments of passion were over, Valka he had time to consider what lay ahead.

 

The idea of having to always pretend to serve Eldrin had seemed a very light cost when it was impossible for Eldrin to love him. It was still not a heavy price compared to the idea of not being near him. He felt a premonitory ache when he remembered that Eldrin was mortal, but he had known many griefs in his four hundred years, and few joys; to have great joy first made that specter of grief less dire.

 

But in the meantime he would live the life of a servant for the rest of Eldrin's life. He didn't mind taking care of Eldrin – as he thought it he nudged Eldrin's hands away from the pump, saying “Here, I'll do that” - but he felt that over time it might grow obnoxious always to have other Dunmer treat him as a servant.

Eldrin gave up the pump with a light smile, moving instead to embrace Valka from behind. One arm encircled him to pet his belly, the other cupping and gently squeezing his buttocks. He kissed Valka's back.

 

“We could probably find a way to make things neater,” Valka said absently, working the pump.  His eyes half-closed with Eldrin’s arms around him, luxuriating in shameless enjoyment.  “With small clothes or towels or... Eldrin, I have a question.”

 

“Yes?” Eldrin asked, turning his head to nuzzle his cheek against Valka. Every part of him was delightful to touch, so soft and firm and hot.

 

“If you were to – that is very distracting,” he said, abdominal muscles twitching in another small laugh. He wanted to just fall down and curl up around Eldrin and stay that way forever. Instead he kept working the pump, warm water pooling around his ankles. “If someone like Teris loved you, what would you do? Would it be worse than loving a servant because you would not be able to live together?”

 

That name was barbs in his heart and Eldrin's smile faded.

 

“I don't know. I didn't think that far ahead.” Eldrin's brow wrinkled as he thought of it, face still pressed against Valka's back. “Not being able to sleep in the same bed would be depressing.”  _ Valka doesn't even sleep. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. _ “That's the biggest drawback I can think of. But with us...” He slid his hand up Valka's back, burrowing his face against the Mazken. “We are going to have to hide that we are even friends, let alone lovers. That constant pretense is something which I think will grow fatiguing very quickly, but... why are you asking? It's not the worst fate. I can bear it.”

 

“I know it will be hard for you either way,” Valka said slowly. He stopped pumping when he judged they could both sit without overflowing the tub, then turned to put his arms around Eldrin, pulling him in against his body. The Dunmer's body was growing cooler as they moved further from arousal, and that filled him with the urge to hold him tighter, to keep him warmer. “But I have had an idea. I just do not know if it's worth it or not. When I return from the Void I build myself from nothing. I use this form because it is the one with which I was created and deviating from it would be very difficult. But it – it might not be impossible. What I'm asking you is, if a strange Dunmer suddenly appeared in your life, would it still be just as bad because I would have no name to offer you? If you still had to marry to please your father, would it be easier to have a Mazken as a lover or a Dunmer from no particular family? If it was only a question of money... I can bring you money.”

 

Eldrin froze, hands on Valka's chest. His eyes were suddenly wide and distant as his chest filled with conflicting emotions that all took his breath away for different reasons.

 

_ Valka, a Dunmer? But his eyes, his skin...  _ He inwardly recoiled from the loss of those features Eldrin had once found disconcertingly alien. Then his heart soared at the prospect of a normal relationship without the pretending...  _ But my father wouldn't approve. I have to carry on the Llethri name. I have to serve House Redoran. _ His eyes drifted down to his hands, lips quivering in a brief, wry smirk before flattening again.

 

“You can bring me money? And how will you do that, Valka, robbing the Redoran vaults? It's not just a question of wealth... the point of marriage is to produce heirs to keep the family name alive.” He sighed miserably. “And propagate suffering by shoving another child into this gilded cage.”

 

“I do not have to rob anyone,” Valka said calmly. “Kerghed used me to obtain wealth for himself. Every daedric ruin on this... island?... contains at least one cursed jewel that summons a dremora. A few of these are carrying daedric weapons that will fall from their bodies when they discorporate. One daedric weapon can be sold for a high price. Most have a dwemer or dreugh weapon; even these have value.” He had no idea how much value, but Kerghed had wanted them badly enough that it was not nothing. “It is not an easy thing, but I have done it.”

 

Eldrin let his head rest against Valka, closing his eyes to savor the embrace and the heat even despite the heaviness of his heart. This situation was not perfect, but it was still better than Eldrin had ever hoped for.

 

Valka squeezed Eldrin tightly, heart sinking. “But if it is a matter of children, of course that will not help. Even if I gave myself a female body – which I would rather not - I would not be fertile.” He sighed. “I suppose there is no woman that would marry you knowing you would always have a male lover living in your house. Obviously you do not want to just run away, or you already would have.”

 

Eldrin snorted, smiling ruefully. Valka did not seem to understand the concept of orientation.

 

“I would rather you did not either, because I quite liked being fucked. I never told you about Iluni, did I? When we met that night, it was so that she could inform me that she was... involved with her Argonian servant.” He wrinkled his nose. The idea of two women being intimate with each other, especially one being an Argonian, was mildly distasteful to Eldrin even though he understood others might feel the same way about his attraction to men. “The same female slave who delivered the letter. Iluni told me she would bear me sons as long as I did not actually touch her. I'm sure Iluni would not mind you living with us, considering her situation mirrors my own. Come, sit, it's going to get cold.”

 

He pushed Valka down, seating himself twisted sideways between Valka's legs so that he could keep one arm around Valka and look at his face. The water felt nicer than the air, but it still was not as hot as Valka's body.

 

“There would still be many drawbacks to that,” Eldrin sighed. “Iluni and I would have to raise a child, we would have to act as a couple in public and with our families. But in private we would be free.”

 

Valka listened to Eldrin as he sat, frowning slightly in concentration as he tried to fathom the ins and outs of this.  Idly he scooped water onto Eldrin's chest, watching it run down his smooth skin.

 

There were many different things happening in Eldrin's voice as he spoke that confused him. Why was he bothered by the idea of this other woman lying with her servant when he was doing exactly the same thing? Or perhaps it was because they were women, and it was frowned upon for that reason? He kept forgetting that this culture had many more men and that men seemed to be the dominant sex.

 

“Does it bother you more that you would have to pretend in public, or that you would have to raise a child? I don't know anything about that part. We are not born. Doesn't the woman do the more difficult part of that?” He vaguely thought he had seen a gravid mortal in the Isles complaining about that, that there was another person growing inside her.

 

“Both bother me. Yes, the woman has to give birth, but after that... You have to be responsible for another person for the next twenty years. I'm terrified that I'd have the same sort of relationship with my child that my father has with me. I've disappointed him. He doesn't even like me or care about me because I wasn't the perfect son he thought I'd be. What if I turn into him? And wouldn't it be cruel to raise a child with parents who don't necessarily enjoy one another's company? We'd be doing it to please our parents, not because we wanted it.”

 

His voice had become bitter. This wasn't what Eldrin wanted to speak of on such a perfect day. He let go of Valka long enough to lean out and pick up the sload soap and sponge from their groove in the wall. He settled back against Valka's body after rubbing them together to lather the soap. He smiled as he pressed the sponge to Valka's chest. Rivulets of soapy water ran down, following the curve of his muscles in interesting ways.

 

_ What is twenty years? Even in a life of a hundred and forty surely that is hardly anything. _

 

Valka reminded himself that to Eldrin twenty years was a long time. Love had not transformed him overnight into a mer with the capacity for significant foresight. He would think of that time as a long period to be endured and not something that would be over briefly compared to the duration of his natural existence. And perhaps when you had a finite amount of time you resented the loss of any of it. He could understand that, he supposed.

 

“You can enjoy someone's company without desiring them carnally,” Valka said patiently. “If this woman is a reasonable enough companion and you can get along cordially, why should this child be unhappy? Or is she obnoxious? I know you don't inherently hate being near women, you were around them all the time at... first...” He blinked slowly as he felt Eldrin rubbing the sponge over his chest, distracted again. So many new textures...

 

Eldrin grinned at the lizard-in-a-sunbeam expression on Valka's face. He brushed the sponge over a nipple, watching intently to see how this would be received.

 

“I don't hate women. And I don't really know Iluni; I only met her once. She seemed nice enough. But you're right, Valka, it's not all that bad. Like I said before, it's a situation I can live with.” He was agreeing with Valka mainly because there was no point arguing over it. The date was set, and unless Eldrin wanted to throw away his entire life there was no backing out of it.

 

Valka had been thinking about something important, but now it was gone because a warm, tingling feeling was radiating outward from the right side of his chest. He looked down, his face darkening.

 

“Eldrin,” he said mildly, “how long do you want to be in the bath?”

 

“Long enough to get you clean, what else?” Eldrin said, looking slyly up at Valka from beneath his lashes and moving the sponge along Valka's body as if that way-stop had been purely coincidental. He filed that new piece of information away for later and rested his head against Valka again, continuing his gentle scrubbing. His other arm held Valka around the small of his back, kneading the muscles there. Valka's body was literally a day old and he'd already bathed that morning. This activity was largely pointless to both of them. But Eldrin reveled in the little sighs and shivers that told him when he'd found a particularly sensitive part of Valka's body and he could press lazy kisses into any place he could reach that wasn't currently underwater or covered in soap.

 

_ Can I tolerate a sham of a marriage if I get to experience this whenever I want it? _

 

_ Of course I can. _

 

Valka reveled in Eldrin's touch, sitting relaxed against the side of the bath with one hand resting on the Dunmer's hip. Sometimes he completely shut his eyes, floating gently in hypnotic euphoria. He was surprised to discover that he loved sex; he had never had a climax as beautiful as with Eldrin; but this form of pleasure was new to his experience and he basked in it shamelessly. There was nothing he would not endure if it meant he could get more of this. Nothing at all.

 

Maybe not the thing with the nix-hounds. That thought amused him sufficiently that he roused himself to wash Eldrin's back.  Later, an embarrassing gurgle from Eldrin's stomach would remind him that certain needs must be met after all.   Eventually laundry had to be done, the rug had to be cleaned, and Tsamabi had to be straightfacedly told what he still thought was a hilarious lie about the oil.  Valka dealt with the cleaning while Eldrin ate his lunch, and then a very blissful afternoon was spent lounging about in Eldrin's room.  Valka gladly settled into an idyll of doing nothing that did not give pleasure to both of them. 

 

Eldrin lay half-dozing in Valka's arms, lulled by a strong, calm heartbeat and gentle caresses when the thoughts and patterns drifting absently through his mind turned to his uncle.  Eldrin sighed, eyes blinking open reluctantly.  

 

Holding Eldrin while he slept was just as wonderful as Valka had hoped, peacefully feeling his lover's chest rise and fall, listening to him gently breathe. He resolved never to spend the night standing outside a door again.   As Eldrin stirred he blinked, making an interrogative sound.

 

“Valka, I've been hiding like I always do,” he said. “The letter I intended for the guards should be delivered today... My uncle surely knows I am not dead by now, and I'd hate for the Sixth House to vacate either of their known hideouts before I can tell anyone about it.” The idea of moving from his present position was abhorrent to Eldrin, but this was important. “I'd rather not send Tsamabi. If the house is being watched, she might be followed and intercepted. At the same time, I can't deliver it by hand myself because I risk being recognized and I don't want to answer questions about how I know these things. Some of the Ordinators know me.”

 

“No, I would not wish for her to take the risk,” Valka agreed. He drew his right arm back over Eldrin's side where he lay behind him so that he could scritch-tickle Eldrin's ribs. “Do you still have one of those potions of invisibility? I could always deliver it there without being seen.”

 

 

Eldrin shuddered and rolled over onto his back and then his opposite side, catching Valka's hand with a challenging grin: _ I can do that too, you know. _

 

“Yes, actually, I think I have two left. This does require us to leave the bed, however.” Eldrin laced his fingers with Valka's and pulled their hands to his lips so he could kiss Valka's fingers, and then he sighed through his nose and withdrew to scoot off the bed. A heavy burden would be eased once this thing was done. And it might be nice outside.

 

He had not dressed in real clothes all day. Eldrin moved toward his closet to find loose fitting pants and tunic, boring in cut and color to avoid drawing attention. He would still have to wait for Valka nearby.

 

“Tsamabi cleaned my room, so the potions are probably on the shelf,” Eldrin said as he buckled on his belt with the tanto.

 

Valka grinned back at him and rolled gracefully off the bed and onto his feet. Where  _ had  _ his new clothes ended up? He gathered up the tunic and trousers and hopped back into the socks one foot at a time.

 

Wearing clothes, combing out hair that had been cut with scissors; had he been able to see forward in time from last month he would not have recognized himself. Even more than before he rejoiced in the sybaritic pleasure of having cloth instead of metal against his torso. He slipped on his shoes and went to get the two potions from the shelf. They were lined up neatly. He wondered if it would be easier for Tsamabi when he and Eldrin had moved into... wherever they were going to live with Iluni and her Argonian. Presumably she would stay here with Eldrin's father, leaving her with only one cranky Dunmer and a startling number of wheels of cheese. He still wasn't sure what those were for, and he didn't want to ask Eldrin for fear of getting his new friend in trouble.

 

“Can you spare me another weapon?” he asked as he brought them to give one to Eldrin. He knew that there were others in the armory, but he wasn't sure of their value or interest to the Dunmer.

 

“Yeah. We'd better not lose any more of these, though. It's going to be embarrassing when my father notices how many things are missing out of there,” Eldrin said dryly. The letter was still where he had left it, folded up beneath a book. He stored the letter and potion in his belt pouch and went across to the armory, looking for something that would both serve Valka well and not be missed too sorely if it were lost. He came back with a pair of silver daggers in leather sheaths and a baldric. They were practice knives that hadn't been used in a while and were probably no longer very sharp, but for now they would do.

 

\---

 

Lassour Zenammu lay tucked up under an overhanging ridge on the roof of the Llethri home, the plaster-tan hood of his cape pulled over his head to guard against the sunlight. The air was not ashy today. His eyes were closed but he was watching misty purple shapes floating about below -- actually, only two were very active at all. The two others were currently joined as one and hardly moving, obviously resting based on the orientation of the bodies. No doubt they were exhausted by all the fucking he'd watched hours earlier. Lassour allowed the spell to end at its leisure and waited for the noise of an opening door.

 

Anyone who happened to look up at just the right angle might possibly see the Dunmer, but it was more likely they would only notice a mottled splotch that might have been ash stains. If one stared for longer they might realize they were looking at a semi-transparent mer clinging to the roof. Although the heavy tattoos accentuating the lines of his face marked him as one of Veloth's people, he might be a free servant or a merchant's assistant according to his dress. A glass dagger was strapped to his left thigh, hidden beneath the cape. A scroll was tucked beside it.

 

The writ of execution had been issued just that morning and Lassour, always early to the guildhall, had been lucky to snatch it up first.

 

_ Eldrin Llethri, 25. Always accompanied by a Mazken summon.  _ In addition to an address and a brief physical description, this was all Lassour knew about his mark. It was an interesting one. Lassour was only slightly concerned about the daedra, but he loved jobs like this; he would likely have more work soon when the other Llethris retaliated. A blood feud by proxy could last as long as the family's wealth did.

 

The sound Lassour had been waiting for came at last. He shifted to the edge of the roof, peeking over the curved ridge to catch a glimpse of his possible target as he moved down the road. He saw two figures briefly as they passed between manors, a young Dunmer of medium height and a taller creature not of this plane. The clothing threw Lassour off for a moment but no, that was no Dunmer. With a twitch of his fingers the soul-light sprang up once more and Lassour waited until the shapes had passed further down the street before he crawled fully out of the ridge to drop nimbly to his feet.

 

\---

 

 

Everything was different. Valka looked around him at this world of round clay buildings and ashy ground and, temporarily, blue skies and saw it in an entirely different way than he had in his first summons. Then this place had been alien, unpleasant, bizarre; now it felt... now it felt like home. He never wanted to leave it. He walked straight-backed beside Eldrin and slightly behind his right shoulder, silver dagger at each hip. He was not thrilled that he had not had time to sharpen them yet, but when they returned home would probably be soon enough. He carried the potion in his new small purse, hanging from his new leather belt beneath his sash.

 

The Hall of Order, which housed Ald'ruhn's jail and several offices, was a domed crescent situated not far from the Temple. Spiked protrusions half-embedded in the ground, like horns, grew out from the sides of the building to form a sort of low-walled courtyard. The area inside was paved and well lit with multiple braziers along the curve of the horns. Eldrin stopped far down the street at the side-yard of a bookstore, keeping that building between himself and the Hall. There was a stone bench here and tall scathecraw growing against the side of the shop.

 

“It's that one, up ahead,” Eldrin said, pointing. He handed the letter to Valka. “When you enter you'll see a desk in the main hall. If you just leave the letter there, that should be good.” Eldrin had been glancing around during the entire walk, but he hadn't noticed anyone following them and no one was paying him any particular mind.

 

Valka nodded as he accepted the letter from Eldrin, took the potion out and downed it. He waved his hand in front of his face to make sure the potion was working and then started off briskly for the gateway. The ground was not so powdery that his footsteps would throw up dust.

 

\---

 

Lassour dispelled his Chameleon. It was too bright a day and too obvious to others when walking in public. He followed Llethri by taking parallel streets, always keeping the purple blobs in the corner of his eyes. It was not difficult to do. The Mazken was taller than most Dunmer and they always walked together.

 

He was stunned to see the larger shape peel off from the smaller, presenting the perfect opportunity much earlier than he'd dared to hope. Lassour waited until the life force of the Mazken was almost out of the range of his ability to track it before slipping casually through the alley that separated the streets.

 

Eldrin forced himself to sit on the bench, knuckles ash-white on his knees. He suppressed the urge to peer around the side of the bookstore to watch for Valka. He wouldn't be able to see anything to begin with and sitting was less suspicious than standing, probably. Very irrational visions of the Ordinators interrogating every pedestrian on the street that day to find out who might have left the letter were flying through his mind when movement caught his eye and Eldrin's head jerked up. A Dunmer was walking toward him from deeper down the alley. Color drained from Eldrin's face, black pupils swallowing the red rings of iris.

 

_ He knows.  _ Lassour opened the clasp on his cape and let it slip from his shoulders, glass dagger whispering from its sheath as he broke into a jog. The young mer in front of him jumped up and now clumsily yanked his own tanto free, then froze for the briefest moment. Lassour knew the look in those wild eyes; he was considering whether to flee and take a dagger to the back or to fight and die like a man.

 

“Valka!” Eldrin shouted as he turned and ran.

\---

 

Valka walked softly through the courtyard. He was surrounded by armored mer, businesslike in their bonemold, chatting in the gruff voices natural to their species and tongue. Some wore their hair bound up in ways suggestive of tribes from further out, or had tattoos or scars marking their faces. To say they all looked alike would be to tell a blunt lie, and he marveled at that anew as he walked a winding path between them to reach the desk. Individual Mazken seldom looked so different from one another. These gestures of individuality with hair and skin marks were not permitted. At least, he thought they must not be. He'd never even considered such a thing. He hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself.

 

He paused by the door, waiting for a mer in bonemold to open it, and then slipped inside behind him. The hall was well-lit by more braziers like those outside, so it was easy to spot the desk. A bored-looking Dunmer in tan clothes of simple embroidery sat behind it, shuffling papers. Valka walked up, his footsteps muffled by the dun-colored rugs and the sound of booted feet in front of him, and slid the rolled letter onto the desk. It faded gently into view as his hand left it, and then he turned to go out the way he had come. He hardly dared breathe until he was out of the courtyard. A Mazken suddenly appearing in the midst of a lot of law enforcement officers would surely be taken for a hostile summons. If he was lucky he would lose an incarnation and his new clothes; if not he would be taken prisoner and have to kill himself to escape; and either way they would probably guess whose he was. It wasn't as though Ald'ruhn was full of summoners with male Mazken as their servants.

 

At last he was out on the street again. He moved toward the alley where the bench was with a lighter heart. At least someone would do something about the shop under-skar -

 

Eldrin's voice, panicked, shouting his name. Valka kicked up dust as he sprinted around the corner and toward the sound, hands diving to draw the silver daggers. It was easier to move in clothing than it had been in armor. He felt lighter than air even as his heart pounded in his ears, and he was aware of his body snapping into visibility at the bottom of his vision.


	28. Chapter 28

Fingers closed in his hair and Eldrin found himself yanked violently back into the alley. He swung backward, blade hitting the assassin's leg at an odd angle. The mer pinned Eldrin's arm against his hip with his own arm and flipped the dagger in his hand to scrape at Eldrin, drawing shallow but livid red cuts across the back of the Dunmer's hand and wrist. Eldrin screamed but didn't let go of the tanto, fingers clawing at the hand in his hair as he fought to twist his arm away. Lassour was dragging them back all the while, away from the bystanders and the guards further up the road.

 

Lassour kicked Eldrin's knee out from under him and the mer stumbled down, finally releasing his weapon. He kicked it away. The Mazken burst around the side of the bookstore just as the sharp edge of a blade bit into Eldrin's throat and cut toward the center with a rapid sawing motion. Eldrin's scream ended in a gurgling hiss with the severing of his trachea and blood bubbled up from the gash, gushing down the front of his tunic in a hot pulsing waterfall.

 

Valka felt a spurt of furious, panicked adrenaline as he saw Eldrin's throat cut. He knew exactly what that felt like and exactly how few seconds he now had. He shoved one dagger into its sheath and charged, then leaped, one hand out to heal Eldrin the second he made contact and the other raised high with dagger in hand as he slashed past Eldrin's shoulder at the side of the assassin's throat. The impact of his body should be enough to carry all three of them to the ground. He might break Eldrin's ribs with his weight, but he would be healed. He would live. That was all that mattered.

 

Lassour darted back as the Mazken charged him, releasing Eldrin's hair and turning to sprint down the alley the way he had come. He reached for the scroll strapped to his thigh as he ran, the thing he'd brought to deal with the daedra to begin with.

 

The world crumpled in around Eldrin as blackness narrowed his vision and pain consumed all thought. He was gasping helplessly, stinging tears rolling down his cheeks and lungs filling up with his own blood when Valka's weight slammed into him. Blue light flared in Valka's hand and Eldrin felt it sink into his flesh. Even as the ragged wound of his neck pulled together more pain accompanied a violent snap from within in his chest when he hit the ground. The force drove specks of frothy blood past his lips and he convulsed as he coughed, fighting to clear his lungs and finally breathe.

 

Valka healed Eldrin again as he slid off his prone body, shuddering with sympathy and shame. He had left Eldrin alone. He must never leave Eldrin alone. He rolled to one side and up to one knee, raising the dagger to throw it at the running mer's back. There was no time for finesse. He aimed at the center of mass and threw as hard as he could. He was already laying his hand on Eldrin's chest to heal him a third time on the follow-through.

 

Eldrin's crushed chest reinflated, ribs snapping back into place and finally he drew breath. He was pale-faced from the blood loss and gasping desperately, drenched in his own sticky blood but he was alive. Eldrin rolled onto his side and shoved himself up on one arm to find his tanto, but the world spun dizzyingly and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing again.

 

Lassour pitched onto his knees when the dagger impacted his back below the shoulder blades. He caught himself with his dagger hand and flipped onto his backside, rolling open the scroll on his knee.

 

“Het'seth Alor!” he hissed, and his palm filled with the effervescent ball of lavender light that was Burden. Lassour hurled the spell at the daedra.

 

There was little room to dodge in the narrow alley. Valka charged straight into the spell and felt the magicka strike his body, but it dissipated and tingled and shot back along the path of least resistance. The Mazken ability to reflect magicka had not failed him. He drew the second dagger in his left hand as he ran forward, holding it down low as he raised his right arm to the guard. If you couldn't get to the throat it had to go upward, under the ribs, and that meant an underarm stab rather than an overarm slash.

 

Lassour's body grew suddenly heavy and he realized his mistake. The spell had rebounded. Distantly he understood that he would die. The light dagger in his hand might have been a warhammer as Lassour stabbed upward. He already knew that even if he cut the Mazken, he'd been unable to use enough force to fatally wound.

 

Eldrin finally pushed himself forward on hands and knees, scrabbling in the dust to snatch up his tanto.

 

The assassin's stroke was slow. Valka seized the mer's wrist as he drove the dull silver dagger into his chest with all his strength. He felt it grind against the dagger embedded in his back as it pierced the heart and went through to the other side. It was a much quicker death than he had attempted to inflict on Eldrin. Valka's face was impassive, without rage or pity or remorse as he twisted the knife.

 

“Urk,” Lassour muttered from a slack jaw, wide eyes rolling up to lock with Valka's and then slipping away. The dagger dropped from his fingers. He felt a sharp pain and a shuddering in his chest as his mangled heart struggled to beat and then stopped. His chest was suddenly warm. Heaviness dragged at him and he slumped, head rolling against his shoulder. The Mazken's hand on his wrist was the only thing keeping him from falling onto his back. He wasn't dead, but he knew he would be in a matter of seconds when the daedra withdrew his blade.

 

Eldrin staggered to his feet and whirled, weapon in his hand, but it was already over with. The assassin's body was mostly obscured by Valka, but Eldrin knew he would not be getting up again. Eldrin's shoulders heaved with ragged pants. Dust had marked the tear trails on his face.

 

To take a mortal life was nasty up close, was permanent and irreversible. To kill an Aureal was to inconvenience and perhaps humiliate them, but they would be back, they would have their turn in the next rotation of the wheel. To kill a Dunmer was to end them forever. But Valka still saw Eldrin's terrified face in front of his eyes, saw blood pouring from his throat. He let go of the Dunmer's slack wrist and seized his collar to hold him up as he jerked the knife free of his chest, watching blood pour from the wound in a couple of quick pulses that rapidly petered out. Valka reached around him to get the other dagger back, holding both knives in his left hand. Then he let go and watched the body slump back onto the ground. Soon he would be colder yet. Valka suppressed a shudder of distaste as he wiped the daggers on the assassin's cloak. He sheathed them hurriedly as he rose and turned to look for Eldrin.

 

Moisture started into Valka’s eyes in unconscious reaction as he recognized the streaks on Eldrin's face. He stepped forward quickly to gather the Dunmer into his arms, heedless of the blood soaking his tunic. They were in an alley, who was there to see?

 

“Eldrin, I'm so sorry,” he whispered into the Dunmer's hair.

 

“No, Valka, that wasn't your fault,” Eldrin said, voice weak and trembling. He let himself meld with Valka, face against his chest, empty arm hugging the Mazken tightly in an embrace he wanted but did not deserve. Tears stung his eyes again, but they were tears of shame. Having his throat slit was the worst pain he had ever endured, made all the more horrific by his utter helplessness and the slow suffocation. He stifled a sob and pushed away from Valka's arms, wiping at his eyes.

 

“I'm okay, Valka. You saved me. Please don't worry.” He reached up to cup Valka's cheek. He couldn't stand to hear the guilt in Valka's voice.

 

Valka shuddered again at the sound of Eldrin's voice. He had come so close to losing him entirely, so suddenly, so soon! He pressed a hand over the hand on his cheek, green-on-black eyes still wide, pupils very small.

 

“I will not lose you,” he said harshly. “Not to a Dunmer. Not to an ash creature. Not to anyone.” He turned to look back at the body, releasing Eldrin reluctantly. “I don't even know why he attacked you. He didn't smell of incense.”

 

Eldrin's heart rose to this throat. He almost cried again out of gratitude, but then Eldrin followed Valka's gaze toward the body. The mer lay sprawled in a pool of his own blood, face so pale that he was nearly white. Eldrin shuddered and looked away at the ground between Valka and himself.

 

“No,” he agreed. “I don't think he's associated with the Sixth House at all.” Eldrin slowly sheathed his blade and edged over to the body. The sharp tang of blood on the air disgusted him. He risked a glance across the face of the corpse; the mer's eyes were open, staring at the wall. It looked as though his eyes might turn toward Eldrin at any moment. Eldrin squatted beside the body, stepping in blood. It didn't matter-- his own blood had splattered the front of his own clothes and the tops of his shoes.

 

The mer had a little purse on his belt, and Eldrin held his breath as he opened it with one hand, fingers trembling. Part of him already knew what he would find when he lifted out a tiny fold of paper closed with red wax. Eldrin recognized the image pressed into the seal as Mephala, patron and symbol of the Morag Tong, four bladed arms raised around a mask-like face. The image was so heavily stylized that anyone not of that culture probably would not recognized what it was. Eldrin stood and stepped quickly back from the corpse, holding up the paper for Valka to take.

 

Valka broke the seal carefully and read:

 

_ Eldrin Llethri _

 

_ The aforementioned personage has been marked for honorable execution in accordance to the lawful tradition and practice of the Morag Tong guild. The Bearer of this non-disputable document has official sanctioned license to kill the aforementioned personage. _

 

Eldrin ducked his head, fist clenched at his side, entire body vibrating as he pressed his eyes shut to hold back more tears. He was grief-stricken. Eldrin should have known. He did know the kind of person his uncle was, but it still hurt so very deeply.

 

Valka read slowly, frowning, then again. He looked up at Eldrin, then moved to put an arm around him. Perhaps he ought not be so ready to touch Eldrin in public, but he was obviously suffering. He had spent one day in Dagon's Hell watching Eldrin suffer and he was done with it. Now he pressed the Dunmer tight against his side.

 

“I don't understand,” he said. “What is the Morag Tong guild?”

 

“Assassins,” Eldrin said miserably. “Assassination is illegal unless contracted through the guild. It is extremely costly. It had to have been my uncle or someone else from the Sixth House who paid for my contract... I can't believe they would spend the gold for someone like me. They must be extremely worried that I'll tell someone, after all.” He grinned bitterly up at Valka. “Even if I die now, I've already won. You got the letter in safely, didn't you?”

 

“It is lawful to assassinate people here,” Valka said flatly. Mortals did kill other mortals in the Isles – over lovers, over theft, because one of them thought the other's head was a cabbage – but it wasn't organized and allowed!  Aureal and Mazken partly acted as a guard force in order to prevent the chaos of constant casual murder that would otherwise result from a large number of insane people kept all together in one place.

 

And here they had neat little contracts tidily sealed with the symbol of another daedra. How very civilized. He felt that his initial seething resentment toward the arrogance of this entire society had not entirely left him after all.

 

“Oh yes,” Valka said, huffing out a breath. “I left it on the desk, as you said. Eldrin, this mer must die. He cannot be allowed to live and continue to attempt things like this.”

 

“I know,” Eldrin said quietly, dropping his gaze. “I should have let you do it the other night.” Eldrin could not find it within himself to regret that too much. The attack on his life by the ash vampire had set events in motion that Eldrin would never want to erase from the history of his life. But now something had to be done about Zulkan.

 

“Come on,” Eldrin said, squeezing Valka's side before he withdrew to bend down and pick up the assassin's cloak, which had only little smears of blood on it from Valka's daggers. He pulled it around his shoulders and shifted it to the side to hide the blood on his tunic. Valka's clothes were stained with blood from touching Eldrin, but not as much, and there was nothing to be done about that. “We have to get out of here before someone happens to look down the alley and see. I mean, I wouldn't get in trouble because we killed him in self defense, but I'd rather not have it getting out that there's a contract for me.”

 

“Understood,” Valka said. He looked down at himself ruefully. “I am glad I wore the black one first. But tonight, Eldrin. Tonight you will let me go there.”

 

He fell in behind Eldrin's shoulder again, leaving behind the writ and the assassin's body. It would take them a while to clean up again. They were certainly spending an astonishing amount of time in the bath today, although he had greatly preferred the earlier occasion to the latter.

 

\---

 

Meanwhile, a letter arrived at the manor addressed to Gilan Llethri by the hand of his brother Garisa.

 

_ To my brother, Gilan Llethri, by the hand of my servant J'saja. _

 

_ I send my respectful regards. _

 

_ My son Sanvyn has informed me that he recently fought a duel with your son Eldrin. I greatly regret that either of them thought this necessary and I assure you it was done entirely without my sanction. We have since traced the pernicious rumor Sanvyn heard back to Zoso Vorfayn, who heard it from a servant in his household, and we have not been able to trace it further. _

 

_ In any case, there is no truth to this vile allegation that I, or any member of my family or any of my servants, had anything to do with the ill health of the kwama in your egg mines. I look upon your success as the family's and the family's success as my own. I know that the ashlanders are primitive barbarians, but perhaps one of their customs will serve me in this: I am sending a gift of ten thousand drakes with this letter by J'saja's hand in token of how very seriously I take this matter. _

 

_ I have also heard a much more pleasant rumor, that your son is or will soon be engaged to be married. Congratulations to you and to him. Barhed Savil may not have been born a nobleman, but he is known to be a very sensible and pious one. An association with that branch of the family can only do us all credit. _

 

_ The ending of the words is ALMSIVI. _

 

_ Three Blessings, _

 

_ Garisa Llethri, his hand and sign _

 

_ \--- _

 

Almost as soon as Eldrin returned to his room from his third bath, having dressed in his robe again, a strong hand rapped on his bedroom door. Eldrin immediately knew it to be his father and his heart felt as though it had stopped.  _ Did my name on the writ send the guards here to investigate? Does he somehow know about Valka? Or maybe he's just come to complain about the usual things? _ Eldrin made an unnecessary shooing motion at Valka and opened the door just far enough that he could slide through the crack, shutting it carefully behind him. Gilan was frowning very seriously at his son just as he usually was, arms crossed over his chest, a folded letter in one hand. Glancing at the paper, Eldrin assumed this had something to do with Iluni Savil.

 

“Yes, Father?” he asked carefully, leaning against his door. His heart was racing but he steeled his face.

 

“Did you duel Sanvyn Llethri over a rumor that his father had sabotaged our mines?” Gilan asked harshly. Eldrin's facade dropped and his face twisted in sudden anger.

 

“Yes. I did. I was trying to protect our family's honor, something you would be unwilling to do.” He mirrored his father's harsh tone, but before he'd even finished speaking his father thrust the letter against his chest. Eldrin snatched it roughly from his hand and glared at his father momentarily before his eyes jerked down to the paper in his hands. Gilan watched his son's face change as he read it; rage became confusion and then he paled with shame, and when Gilan took the letter back Eldrin did not raise his eyes.

 

Gilan sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. His own anger fled with a sinking of his shoulders, leaving behind only weariness.

 

“If you had spoken to me about this I could have told you myself that Garisa didn't do it. He's my own brother, Eldrin. What were you thinking? I don't understand. Tell me what I'm doing wrong here. How am I supposed to deal with you?”

 

The helpless, pleading intonation of his father's voice shamed him further and Eldrin recoiled, pressing himself just a little bit harder against the door.

 

“Ah, it doesn't matter,” Gilan said, throwing up a hand in a tired gesture. “I don't know who challenged who, but Sanvyn shouldn't have participated either. Tsamabi said you're drinking less. That's good, Eldrin, but it's not enough. These childish--”

 

“Why would Tsamabi tell you that? What business is it of hers?” Eldrin snapped, glancing sharply up.

 

“ _ I  _ ask her. The gods know you would never tell me anything that's happening in your life yourself.”

 

“You don't want to know,” Eldrin said coldly. “You don't care, and you'd never understand.” Part of him regretted the cruelty of his words even as they left his mouth. He could clearly see the hurt in his father's eyes even if he held his face neutrally stiff. Gilan sighed.

 

“I might understand or I might not, but at least I would not have a stranger for a son.” The words rang with tired resignation. Gilan did not expect a response, and Eldrin did not give one. He let the words hang like cold mist between them, staring his father down defiantly to mask his bitter shame. Gilan realized there would be no headway to make tonight; he turned to leave.

 

“I met with Iluni,” Eldrin blurted. Gilan stopped; turned his face back toward his son, one brow raised slightly. “In private,” Eldrin continued haltingly, racing to pluck out the correct words from the storm of unspeakable truths and half-lies as quickly as he spoke them. “I think she will be a good wife to me. I'm trying to improve myself. Before the marriage.”

 

Gilan smiled, and Eldrin was startled by the warmth of his father's hand landing on his shoulder.

 

“That's good, Eldrin. An arranged marriage is a difficult thing, I know that. I had the privilege of choosing my wife for reasons that had very little to do with status or wealth and it grieved me to force this on you, but I felt there was little else I could do. You never came to me with suggestions of your own and your future has to be secured  _ somehow _ . Don't you realize that I worry for you?”

 

“I suppose,” Eldrin admitted quietly, averting his eyes. The hand on his shoulder squeezed.

 

“I know there's more going on with you, and maybe someday you'll want to tell me. I'll take this much for now. Good night, Eldrin.”

 

“Good night,” Eldrin echoed as the hand slipped away and his father turned to leave again. Eldrin watched him plod up the stairs with a faint hint of the stiffness of his advancing age and Eldrin's heart sank with heavy remorse. He should have said more, but his pride did not allow it. He should have apologized for all the times he'd fucked up – and Eldrin knew he lived in the shadows of one towering mistake after another – but the words would be so empty without deeds to back them up. He sighed roughly and pushed himself into his room with one hand on the doorknob and the rest of his weight against the door. Eldrin was suddenly exhausted and he had not even faced the worst obstacle of the day yet: planning the method by which to kill his own uncle.

 

As soon as the door was closed Valka pressed his ear to it, listening intently to what was said. He had never had a conversation with Eldrin's father, and he was intensely curious. Someone else might have called this dishonorable, but while Valka was now aware of the Dunmer concept of honor and valor, he still did not entirely subscribe to it.

 

_ Maybe a little. _ Imagine living in a world where everyone agreed that you should be just, brave, merciful, daring, humble in some things, proud in others. Imagine living in a world where those characteristics were rewarded.

 

He had the feeling Eldrin would probably like to live in a world like that as well, because this wasn't it. On the other hand, though he loved the mer unabashedly, he also felt that Eldrin could have done a great deal more toward attaining those Graces than he had before they met. From Valka's limited view of him it appeared that he had been born with many advantages and squandered them profligately all his life.

 

_ And which of these Graces do you urge him to attain by letting you murder his uncle? _

 

_ Daring and mercy. It will take daring to commit the act, and it will be merciful toward all his family and toward anyone else that Zulkan might harm in the future. _

 

_ See how easily this merish sophistry comes to you, Mazken.  _ He quirked the corner of his mouth in wry humor as he continued to listen to Eldrin talk to his father. He felt sympathy for Gilan Llethri even though he knew that he would probably try to separate them if he really understood the situation. But that feeling and that understanding were not mutually exclusive. The ability to accept contradictory facts was not just a Dunmer one.

 

He was deeply curious to meet Eldrin's future spouse and her lover. What would they be like, what would they say? Would they be offended by Eldrin's love of a daedra, as Eldrin seemed mildly offended by Iluni loving an Argonian slave? That was still a thought whose perversity bordered on the hilarious to him.

 

He stepped back as he felt Eldrin's weight against the door and heard the knob turn, holding the door open to admit him.

 

“What was it?” he asked gently, looking at Eldrin's drooping posture. He held out one arm.

 

Eldrin looked Valka up and down with narrowed eyes.

 

“Were you listening to that?” he asked, but his disapproval was mocking, not genuine, and he rolled himself into Valka's embrace. 

 

“Of course I was,” Valka said, completely unrepentant, and squeezed him tightly. 

 

“Garisa Llethri heard about my duel with Sanvyn, and he sent my father a letter about it and ten thousand drakes as an offer of goodwill. I... I was obviously hasty in assuming he was the one to blight my father's kwama...” Eldrin couldn't look up at Valka. He was too disgusted with himself.

 

_ We have since traced the pernicious rumor Sanvyn heard back to Zoso Vorfayn, who heard it from a servant in his household, and we have not been able to trace it further. _ Eldrin's eyes widened with awful realization and he tightened his arm against Valka's body. His expression quickly shifted to one of cold determination. “...But I think that rumor was Zulkan trying to manipulate me. I don't know if I've explained this to you, but my uncle Garisa is a councilman, which means he holds a lot of power in House Redoran. Zulkan wanted access to Garisa, and I was stupid enough to give it to him. Valka, I know Zulkan has to die, but how? His servants will-- ” Eldrin wilted suddenly, burying his face in one hand.

 

“He is my mother's brother. What is she going to think?” he asked in a tiny, cracking voice.

 

Valka listened, frowning. It sounded as if Eldrin had jumped to a conclusion and then charged headfirst into an emotional reaction. Well, that was consistent with everything Valka knew about him. He was glad that Eldrin had taken the hard step of urging his cousin to remove the ash statue from his home. He did not know the outcome of that. Probably they should try to find out. But at least Eldrin had done the right thing even though it was not the easy thing.

 

“He will not go to the same afterlife that she is in, will he?” Valka now said, stroking the back of Eldrin's hair. “She will not be troubled with him. And if she is watching, she will know that you defended your family's honor even though your father cannot know. She will be proud of you.” One fingertip traced the edge of a gracefully pointed ear. “I still know little about mortal life, but I do know that you cannot choose who your blood relations are. She did not choose that her brother should betray everything that you hold sacred.”

 

“The Sixth House do not venerate the Tribunal, but I don't think they pledge themselves to Daedra as in the old ways... I don't know, but I think they will be together. Perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps Zulkan can be set right by our ancestors. That seems like such a cheap thing to console myself with, doesn't it? But I know you're right, Valka.” He dropped his hand, shuddering at the touch to his ear. All of the wrong things Eldrin had done had been so easy. Perhaps that this thing was so difficult meant that it was right.

 

“I don't understand how any of that works,” Valka admitted. He would have to try to find out. One day he would be separated from Eldrin by an uncrossable gulf, and he would want to know that Eldrin was somewhere safe or better or... not lying undead and trapped forever in some tomb guarding mortal riches for which he no longer had a use. At least he could prevent that last.

 

_ Valka is going to be the one doing this dirty deed. Not you. You'd better appreciate what you're asking him. _

 

“Valka... Do you think you could sneak into Zulkan's house using the last invisibility potion and make it look like an accident? I mean... Do it quickly, without blood, and...” Eldrin winced, imagining Valka tossing the lifeless body of his uncle down the steps. He continued softly, “I'm sorry that I'm asking you to do this. I'd rather not know... how it's done.”

 

Valka breathed in and exhaled. He had expected an argument. Zulkan's death would be bad enough for Eldrin without him having to see it directly and be tormented by it everafter.

 

“Do not be sorry,” he said quietly. “I won't be. To end a mortal life is more unpleasant to me than it once would have been, but if it must be done, it must be done. And it will be very quick. I promise you that.” He felt it would not be a difficult promise to keep when the subject of it was a middle-aged mer whose greatest danger to them had been his clever manipulation of Eldrin's emotions. “Remember that he would wish you to be present so that he could talk you out of it, or failing that, so that he could hurt you as much as possible. I think we should deny him that.”

 

Oh yes. Mazken were not impossible to manipulate, but the context was very different. He had not known Zulkan from childhood, from that curiously vulnerable time of forming and changing that all mer went through. He would not enjoy snuffing out that light any more than he had in the alley, but he would not hesitate for one second. Not when it was them or Eldrin.

 

“Do you still have the potion in your belt?”

 

“Yes.” Eldrin pulled back so that he could fish the potion out of his belt pouch. He held the little bottle up for Valka to take. “If you drink half before and the rest after the duration will be less, but you don't have to walk through a huge manor like you did last time. ...Thank you, Valka. I'm ready for this nightmare to finally end.” He squeezed Valka around the waist and extracted himself from his arms, moving over to his side table to dig around. He threw papers and nail files and a little wooden carving of a mer in bonemold armor on his bed before pulling out an iron key. A long length of blue ribbon was still tied to it so that it could be worn like a necklace.

 

“Uncle Zulkan gave me a spare key. I used to spend a lot of time at his house when I was younger,” Eldrin said quietly. He drifted slowly back to Valka, playing with the key in both hands while he stared at it pensively. He thought maybe Zulkan liked to have him around because Eldrin was in some way a piece of his sister, but had Zulkan been planning to use Eldrin even then? He did his best to stifle any trace of sadness on his face as he held the key up to Valka. “Come on, I'll walk you to the door. If anyone stops you, say your master has rockjoint and you're going to the Temple to pick up a curative. That sounds plausible enough, doesn't it?”

 

Valka squeezed him back and watched him quietly as he sought out the key. He tried to imagine trusting someone during a vulnerable part of your life and then finding out that they had only treated you well because they had a use for you later. He came up short. He had never been important or useful enough for anyone subtle to bother trying, and because he had not been born, he had no relatives to be exposed to him by proximity. The only person who could possibly have used him -

 

\- was Eldrin. Eldrin, who barely knew what sex was and couldn't defend himself for ten seconds. If he was manipulating Valka he was a much, much better actor than his uncle. Valka dismissed that idea out of hand.

 

“Yes, that sounds reasonable,” Valka said. He wasn't sure what rockjoint was. Probably a disease. Which he should probably ask about later, in case Eldrin  _ did  _ come down with it.

He walked beside Eldrin to the front door and collected the olive shawl to wrap around his head and shoulders. The ashfall was light, but it was still gently falling, and in a shawl he could pass for an unusually burly Dunmer to someone who expected that more than they expected to see a daedra walking the street. He wasn't sure what to say to Eldrin, so he just laid a hand on his shoulder and walked quietly away.

 


	29. Chapter 29

The sky was gray, only a handful of stars peeping through the softly falling ash. At street level it was already dark. Valka walked quietly, key and potion in his belt pouch, keeping his head down but not going so fast that he should attract attention. A guard glanced at him on his way past but did not stop him.

 

The street in front of the manor was quiet. Servants could be heard talking and laughing out behind the houses, but in front there was nothing much happening. Valka took up the potion and had a sip, then ran as quietly as he could up to the door to unlock it. He was aware that he faded into visibility as he was stepping inside, but with no one on the street anyway no one would have seen him. He had another, longer drink as he stopped to listen, shutting the door behind him very slowly.

 

Someone was down here off to his right, probably in the kitchen, feet shuffling about slowly. No doubt Bakes-Fine-Breads was making her final preparations for the following day. Upstairs he heard a female voice singing in Ta'agra. Stealthily he made his way up, pausing every few feet to listen. At the top landing the voice was still a bit muffled, behind a closed door. He was faced with a hallway with four doors, two to each side. The voice came from the farthest ahead on his left. As he moved forward he saw that one on his right was open, and he heard a rustle of clothing from within. Valka slipped inside, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Only a single blue lantern lit this room. There was a large double bed and a couple of fine nightstands of carved wood, a vanity not unlike Eldrin's but much less cluttered, a dressing screen, a closet. The larger furnishings were much plainer than the smaller, probably cheap replacements for better things that had been sold.

 

Zulkan stood in front of the closet, hanging up clothes. He wore a gray dressing gown belted at the waist. His feet were bare and his hair was tied back in a rough bun, as it had generally been when Valka saw him.

 

Valka moved toward him as quietly as he could, but he was not especially gifted in walking silently; his foot scuffed the nap of the carpet as he drew near. Zulkan turned sharply, eyes looking through Valka as he scanned the room. Here, away from Eldrin and the light, the look of his face was less weary and harder, narrower. It was more as it had been in the cave. That made it a little easier, at least. Valka reached for his head and jerked it violently around to the left. There was a sharp  _ crack  _ and Zulkan gasped, but that was all the noise that there would ever be. Valka caught the body as it fell.   And it was over, just like that: no more lying words, no more disappointed faces to bend Eldrin to his will, all of it snuffed out in one instant.

 

Valka dragged the corpse out to the landing while it was still twitching. From the room behind the Khajiit was calling, “Did he drop something?” Valka hurriedly stood Zulkan up as best he could at the top of the stairs and gave him a hard shove, then ran down after him, the sound of the falling body covering his footsteps. It was a nasty thing to see, bundle of limply flopping limbs and flailing head and gape-eyed startled expression. He vaulted the crumpled body at the bottom stair and ran to let himself out as quietly as he could, just as the voice from upstairs said,

 

“Oh, he isn't in here – what was that?”

 

The second the door was shut and locked behind him he downed the last of the potion and started the long walk home. It would fade before he got there, but by that time he would be well away and it would be dark enough that if he kept away from the lamps no one would probably notice. His heart beat faster than he had expected as he walked, shoulders hunched against the evening's chill. The ash was falling faster now, the wind picking up.

 

He had taken two mortal lives in one day. Valka found that more unpleasant than he had expected. The startled expression on Zulkan's dead face as he fell stayed with him more than the killing itself, which had taken place in a nearly-dark room. His face was serious as he reached the door to the Llethri manor and tapped at the door.

 

\---

 

Eldrin watched Valka from the doorway with a heavy heart until his lover moved into shadow on the far side of the street. There was always the possibility he would be killed by an Ordinator who did not believe his story – possibly they would not bother to ask -- and Eldrin was not completely sure that Valka would be able to find his way to Nirn again. The thought of Valka never returning frightened him more than anything else he had recently faced.

 

Eldrin ducked back inside to lock the door. He hoped this would end things. Maybe by tomorrow all the other cultists would be arrested. He forced himself down to the family shrine and left the door open while he kneeled before the triolith, fingers digging into the robe draped over his thighs. His thoughts were too distracted for prayer, ears straining for the knock that would come from above. He abandoned the shrine more quickly than he needed to and went back upstairs to wait on the bench. He spent most of that time anxiously rubbing his hair draped over his shoulder and constantly checking to see if he had imagined a knock which in fact was only his heart beating furiously in his ears. When the real knock came it was unmistakable and Eldrin jumped up to let him in.

 

“Valka,” Eldrin breathed, tugging the Mazken inside by the hands. Tears suddenly sprang to his eyes. He knew that it was done. His uncle was dead. The grief he felt was immense, but more importantly, Valka had not disappeared forever into the Void. He threw his arms around Valka and buried his face against the Mazken's chest, shuddering as he exhaled.

 

 

“Sh, sh,” Valka whispered into the top of his head, pushing the door shut behind him. He inhaled the scent of Eldrin's hair as he wrapped his arms around the Dunmer, letting it anchor him to here and now and light and life. Eldrin felt him take a shuddering breath in turn as he crushed Eldrin against him for a second, then eased off slowly. He realized that he had not for a moment considered that Eldrin might not be able to love the killer of someone he had known all his life. Kin and clan-bond was strong with mortals, stronger than with many daedra.

 

He freed one arm to try and nudge Eldrin's chin up toward him, his eyes earnestly searching the Dunmer's face.

 

Eldrin lifted his face to Valka and the Mazken blurred beyond the tears in his eyes. His hands tightened against Valka's back.

 

“Valka,” Eldrin repeated in a hysterical whisper, eyes darting wildly across Valka's face. He could not risk his father following the sound of their voices out into the hall. “I know this is stupid, but I was worried you wouldn't come back. I still don't understand how you can find your way here through the Void... I don't even know what the Void is like or how any of that works. If someone had stopped you..!” Eldrin felt he was probably babbling, stupid words pouring rapidly out of him. Valka had just killed a mer for Eldrin's sake, and Eldrin had just lost his uncle, and this was what he worried about?

 

He knew from experience that the true grief had not hit him yet-- that would come days later, when the reality of a new existence without his uncle in it slowly sank in.  _ He was never the person you thought he was to begin with,  _ Eldrin told himself. He would fight those thoughts away, otherwise the grief and the guilt might consume him. When everyone knew of Zulkan's passing it would be safe to mourn; now it was not.

 

Valka reached up with his thumb to gently wipe the tears from under Eldrin's eyes. His face was serious, but he relaxed slightly as he listened.  _ He was afraid I wouldn't come back.  _ Something swelled inside him, behind his breastbone. Being wanted was an addictive thing. It bathed him in dizzying warmth and he craved more of it immediately.

 

“The thing that centers me here is you,” he whispered back softly. “As long as you are alive, nothing can keep me from reforming in Nirn near to where you are. If someone had stopped me I would lose my new clothes and I would suffer pain, but I would come back to you. I will always come back to you.”

 

He put an arm around Eldrin's waist and squeezed him, tugging the olive shawl free to hang it up.

 

“You should rest. You have had a long day. Are you hungry, thirsty?”

 

“I can't even think about eating,” Eldrin laughed, but it was a miserable sound. He slipped his hand into Valka's as he pulled away to lead him downstairs. Even having been out at night, Valka's hand was so reassuringly hot. Eldrin wanted to tuck himself against that heat and think of nothing else, or at least try his best to do so. “Come down and let me hold you for the rest of the night. It's the only thing I want to do.”

 

“Yes,” Valka said firmly, and let himself be led. Eldrin's hand felt so cold. Down in the bedroom he changed into his new “sleeping” trousers. They were light grey linen, thin and soft. The moment Eldrin was changed, he picked him up to carry him to bed and curled up beside him, arms around his body, radiating heat and concern and love. He understood that Eldrin would grieve for the person he had known and cared for even though that person was not real. It would take more than a few days to fully realize that and to let go.

 

_ We know loss, and fear it. We hate the Darkness, and fear it. _

 

But tonight the Darkness was far from him and far from Eldrin, and the light inside him burned bright and warm.


	30. Epilogue

##  3E 430

 

Several miles Northwest of a Hlaalu port city called Andothren there sat a little manor on a green hilltop. A smooth-edged plaster wall bordered four acres of lawn and struggling gardens, although another twenty acres of parasol-dotted valleys nestled between jutting stone hills lay beyond. The sky was so much larger here -- Red Mountain had been reduced to a mound on the Northeastern horizon, while the jagged snow-topped ridge of the Valus Mountains peeked up from the distant West. Black thunderclouds would come along to darken the skies now and then, but never the biting ash.

 

The land had been a gift from Barhed Savil, originally bought cheaply because the soil beneath that green grass was rocky and ill suited to farming. The caves on the property had been prospected and unfortunately turned up nothing of value to redeem his investment. Barhed had seemed perplexed when his daughter and new son-in-law both insisted this property, far from home on the mainland and without any profitable qualities, was the one they desired most out of all that he could offer them. To the couples who would inhabit it, this land was a paradise.

 

Living above ground in rooms brightened by sunlight through the green glass of Hlaalu-style bubble windows was a novelty Eldrin readily adjusted to, and from the flat roof of the manor one could absorb the spectacular tableau writ in the stars on a clear night. Eldrin took great joy in explaining the constellations to Valka while wrapped up in blankets and basking in a pocket of (mostly Mazken) body heat.

 

It was here beneath the stars that Eldrin first said to Valka that he loved him. When the furious passion Eldrin once labeled lust-friendship-affection had burned through its fuel, Eldrin found love hiding in the ashes. It pulsed as strong and steady as the throb in Valka's chest when they were pressed heart to heart. Eldrin was only mortal and a very flawed one at that, but he tried to let Valka know what he meant to the Dunmer, as often as possible, with every word and every touch.

 

That night was four years behind them, and now Eldrin came trundling up the graveled path to the estate in a small guar-drawn wagon. He rode alone; they employed as few servants as possible, and truth be told Eldrin did not mind driving the guar. He wasn't much for animals but Daggle had grown on him, even if Eldrin hated being licked by the massive, slimy tongue.

 

He'd just seen his father off to the docks in Andothren after a week-long visit. Gilan was a much easier mer to get along with when they were not permanently shoved under the same roof together, Eldrin found, and he quite enjoyed their letters and the occasional visit. But entertaining visitors was a bit stressful for everyone in the household even if he and Iluni did like to see their families. Eldrin was eager to return home to a world free of constraints.

 

Eldrin tried not to hurry as he hung up the tack and dumped feed into Daggle's trough, patting the guar on the flank as he left. Daggle responded by nearly knocking Eldrin over with his fat waving tail as he bent to gobble his meal as if he were a poor, starving beast and not the spoiled creature that he was. Eldrin latched the gate to the stable on his way out. The large pen on the other side of the stable was Daggle's alone; they had no other large livestock. The single velk they'd been planning to butcher had turned into a pet. Eldrin had surprised himself by how well he'd adapted to this more primitive rural life, but slaughtering a thing that had once nuzzled his hand was something he'd probably never be able to do.

 

A row of cedar trees with drooping boughs bordered the flagstone path that led to the manor and the shade was a blessed relief from the summer sun. He took off his hat as he walked, a broad, conical straw sunhat dyed a deep gray-green. The rim was embroidered with ivy and brighter green tassels hung from the back of it. He wore his hair as he often did, twin braids woven with vibrant blue ribbon while the rest of his hair hung against his back. His tunic was wide-collared and loose, trousers tucked into short leather boots. He shouldered a small satchel.

 

To the East of the house, away from the noon sun, there was a little orchard. Iluni called it an orchard because she liked that word and idea, but actually it was four little roobrush-trees in a small copse in the gardens. A clay wall as high as Valka sheltered it from the wind that blew from Vvardenfell.

 

There were a couple of stone benches under the trees, and Iluni regularly went out carrying a long fat cushion to sit here and sketch or sew. Her favorite present from her new husband was a long, light table with clever folding legs that she could use for cutting and laying-out fabric. At this moment she was pinning up the side seams of a long vest. The fabric was not especially fine, though the black dye was nice and even, but she had grand plans for the embroidery. People really neglected some of Almalexia's passages on mercy to your fallen enemies, and written in a romantic script onto a woman's clothes they could be taken to refer to love as well as war. She thought that was a charming idea.

 

Not far off she could hear scuffling little feet and the occasional burbling giggle. Naxheer and Narlu were playing at hide-and-seek. You heard cautionary tales about that game and how children could wedge themselves into a tight space and suffocate without ever being found, but in fact it was quite impossible for even a small three-year-old – and Narlu was a bit small for her age – to escape an Argonian's nose.

 

It was Naxheer's turn. Narlu was incredibly energetic for something so tiny, so they took it in turns to keep her busy. Later Valka would take over. It was certainly nice having someone around who literally never needed to sleep.

 

Managing the conception had been just as awkward as she had imagined, waiting in a room for Eldrin to get his part of the business done and hoping not to hear any noises, but at least Naxheer had managed the bit with the cup and dropper expeditiously and without error, and she had gotten pregnant on the second try. Her mother had visited for the delivery and had been just as fussy and managing about it as she had expected, but fortunately she had managed to convince her that between Naxheer and Valka she had more than enough help and “You should go home and get some real rest, Mother, you're worn to a cinder.”

 

It had hurt quite a lot, but she was reliably informed that it had been briefer than most, and the important thing was that the baby was healthy and so was Iluni. She had also been a girl, which meant at some point they'd have to try at least once more, but maybe the second one would be easier. And seeing Naxheer holding a cooing gray bundle, a tiny, chubby hand grasping at her muzzle, had immediately made it all worth it. They had named her after Iluni's father's aunt with the agreement that, when they had a boy, he would be named after some relation of Eldrin's.

 

Her parents still weren't sure about them having a summoned daedra around all the time, but Valka had managed to convince them that he couldn't lie first of all, and that he was completely incapable of harming any of them second. The second of these she believed herself. The way he coddled Eldrin was completely shameless when they were at home away from strangers.

 

At the moment Valka was out at the Western edge of the property with a scythe in his hand, naked to the waist and glossy with sweat as he cut the tall grass. He wore dusty tan trousers and a familiar olive shawl draped about his head and shoulders to protect him from the worst of the sun. He kept an ear peeled toward the house. If anyone called out or even laughed louder than usual he would know.

 

He suffered no high vegetation to grow close to the house or wall. The Sixth House seemed to have given up on Eldrin with the death of his uncle, but Valka was ever vigilant, and he did not intend to make it easy for anyone to creep up. It was nice to imagine lying curled up around Eldrin all night, every night, but it was safer to spend some nights quietly walking about the property instead.

 

And truth be told, sometimes he enjoyed that. All of this seemed far too good to be true, and he needed the time alone to think and examine it all. Eldrin's wife was a kind, gentle person, far more interested in her books and stories than in interfering in Eldrin's relationship with his lover. Naxheer was surprisingly very much like her in temperament given their different species and backgrounds, and yet more understood what it was to be a servant, so she and Valka had that in common. He had found both of them wary at first, but very ready to accept him as he continued to treat them with respect. Talking with both of them had taught him a great deal about how Dunmer society treated its women and corrected certain misconceptions he had originally had. 

 

He was learning to sew basic seams. Why not?  It was important that he paid them each a little attention, that the household not be divided rigidly between couples. They would all be together a long time.

 

To suddenly be living with a tiny Dunmer that had come out of Iluni's body was truly a startling experience. She was fragile and unusually stupid and acted a bit like a drunk person. She also moved very fast if you took your eyes off her now that she could walk, so she needed a lot of watching. It was equally startling how fast she seemed to be getting bigger. He could already see Eldrin's beautiful features in her little face.

 

There was movement in his peripheral vision. Valka straightened, turning to look. The stables were on the other side of the house from him, but he could see part of the gravel path, so he saw the cart come trundling up, wheels loud in the gravel. He grinned and bent to finish his task quickly - he was nearly to the property line – and then turned to saunter toward the house with the scythe on his shoulder.

 

Eldrin had already been smiling absently to himself, in part because it was such a beautiful day and he was happy to be home, but his grin broadened when a familiar shape caught his eye. The mere sight of Valka still had the ability to stop Eldrin's heart, and here he was with naked torso glistening with sweat, as perfect and handsome a sight as ever. Now Eldrin was free to stare as much as he wanted, did not have hide the adoration in his eyes with a mask of impassivity. It had been a long week. Eldrin diverted from the path to meet his lover between the trees, immediately tugging Valka to him with a hand on one hip and the other at the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

 

To see Eldrin always made Valka feel warmer, and he never ceased to feel a thrill at the Dunmer's proprietary treatment of his body, little touches, hungry kisses. He kissed back, smiling against Eldrin's mouth as he snaked a hand around to casually cup a buttock.

 

“That is a very silly hat,” he informed him cheerfully. “I assume it has some religious significance? The ladies are in the orchard and I have just now finished the mowing.” He had absorbed both the proper upper-class term rather than “women” or “females” and also the word that Iluni preferred to use for that corner of the garden.

 

Eldrin pushed at Valka's chest, frowning petulantly.

 

“You have no taste,” he said. He shook the hat demonstratively between them. “We've already sold out of our entire stock at the shop.” He peeled Valka's hand from his ass and held it, leading him around the other side of the house toward the orchard. He continued in a very serious tone despite his smile, “Of course there is significance. Vivec gave his straw hat to a poor farmer who had none, and now we honor his generosity every Hat Day by offering these hats to our ancestors.”

 

 

“That is excellent news,” Valka said. He was also learning significantly more about the concept of commerce than he had ever expected, and it pleased him to learn that Valka was in fact very good at it. It would do him good to know that he was skilled at something. Indeed, it already was; he was a happier mer by far than the one Eldrin had at first known. “I am pleased to see you assiduously pursue these ancient customs.”

 

“AAAAAaaaaaaaa!” They heard a trailing shriek before they saw Narlu, who was running as fast as she could on her tiny short legs, the skirt of her little blue dress and the fat ribbons tied around it trailing out behind her as she burst from the mud-clay archway that led to the gardens. Her hair was loose as well, since she had apparently contrived to lose the ribbons that bound it somewhere. In a thicket, judging by the bits of fire petal and comberry leaf stuck in her hair. She was a round-faced chubby little thing, storing up for the growth spurt that would presumably render her into a gangly preteen at some point. Now she headed straight for Eldrin to wrap her arms around his leg.

 

“Da is base! I win!” she announced proudly as Naxheer emerged at a run, with the peculiar tilting gait imposed by an Argonian's big digitigrade feet. She was wearing pale blue linen that didn't quite match the child's. She slowed to a halt, panting as they approached.

 

“Yes, yes. You win. How did we do?” she asked Eldrin. Valka peered down with mild curiosity. Narlu stared up with wide, guileless eyes.

 

Naxheer and Iluni were both significantly better dressed than before the marriage. Now there was nothing to conceal. The blue linen tunic and baggy trousers Naxheer wore were handsomely embroidered in white with a pattern of dancing scribs, and Iluni's navy linen robe and cream-colored underrobe were embroidered with silver threads describing the battle of Red Mountain.

 

The cut now flattered instead of concealed the Dunmer's full figure, and she wore her hair tied loosely behind her head, loose strands around her face.

 

Eldrin had opened his mouth to tell Valka he was only joking when a tiny screaming creature came running at him to latch onto his leg. He released Valka's hand and put the hat back onto his head so that he could scoop his daughter up in both arms, cupping her head so that he could kiss the top of it without her wriggling away.

 

Eldrin's greatest fear, that he would ever feel burdened by the obligation of raising a child, had completely dissolved the moment he first laid eyes on that pinched little newborn face. He knew that the next twenty years would slip through his fingers much too quickly. Nor did he think that he could ever let himself grow distant. If anything his daughter was in danger of being spoiled; Eldrin could deny her nothing she really wanted and Narlu could never feel neglected with what basically amounted to four parents to love her.

 

He felt no jealousy at all to share her. Iluni and Naxheer had become dear to him and he could not have found better mothers for his child.

 

“Very well. Too well,” Eldrin said with a grin, carrying Narlu into the orchard to see Iluni. “The first batch of hats are sold out. Also, Yahiri asks that we hire more assistants. The waiting list for custom orders is getting too long.”

 

Eldrin had not wallowed in his grief long before it came to light that his uncle had squirreled away a huge fortune in his home. Even the slaves had not known of this wealth, but as his closest living relative almost fifty thousand drakes fell into Eldrin's hands. He freed his uncle's slaves with a generous parting gift to discourage them from asking questions, donated enough to the Temple to assure the community of his devotion, and asked Iluni what they should do with the rest.

 

That was how they came to own a garment shop in Andothren. Eldrin was thrilled to discover that his wife and her lover were both supremely skilled in creating that which he was fairly passionate about himself. They had even taught him to sew, although Eldrin found that part of designing a bit tedious. Running a business had been tricky at first, especially when it was just Iluni and Naxheer doing the hard work of tailoring with a few assistants plus Eldrin to help, but Barhed Savil and Gilan Llethri were both businessmen and both offered plenty of advice. Eldrin learned quickly. Now they employed enough seamstresses that hardly any real work fell to them.

 

“Splendid,” Naxheer crowed, turning to soft-foot it back into the orchard in front of them. “And we thought the place would never turn a profit! I knew those hats would be popular.”

 

“The hats are popular?” Iluni said, looking up. She smiled to see them all. She had not been sure, deep in her heart, whether a man who could not love women could love a child; but that had proven an entirely unfounded and prejudicial fear on her part. Even Valka, who had no context at all for raising children, loved little Narlu in his own odd way. “I've been working on a new design to send down for copying. The cut of the thing is bland, I know, but I was thinking it would go over well with the mothers and mothers-in-law. We need more things to please the older customers. I'm going to work in Almalexia's passage on Magnanimity To the Conquered along the front hems. But here's me rattling on, how are you doing? Are you thirsty?”

 

“I'll get water,” Valka volunteered cheerfully, and reached over to tousle the child's hair before turning toward the house.

 

“I won!” Narlu announced, arms around her father's neck.

 

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” Eldrin said. “I'm fine. If Father had missed his boat I think I would have torn my hair out, but that was obviously not the case. As I was telling Naxheer, we need more assistants in the shop. And, honestly, I think we're ready to expand. Imagine if we opened a shop in Almalexia? The rent would be high, and setting it all up will be a lot of work, but...” Eldrin shrugged. The capital saw thousands of pilgrims yearly in addition to a large local population. The exposure would be monumental.

 

He patted the girl in his arms.

 

“And what did you win? A bath? A nice, crunchy carrot?” he asked seriously.

 

“You don't have a carrot,” Narlu said suspiciously. “Don't wanna bath.” She pointed at Naxheer. “”Give her the bath, she can breathe underbubble.”

 

“Almalexia,” Iluni breathed, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my. I don't know if we can afford the overhead yet, but it's something to reach for.” She well knew that her father attributed all of their business success to her husband purely for reasons of gender, but then, she'd never shown any signs of interest in his concerns when she was growing up. There had never been a hope of anything like this then. Having a spouse with a good name gave her a cachet that was frankly a little startling – there was so much more that she and Naxheer could do! “I've heard there's a book store there that's three stories tall. I could get  _ anything  _ shipped. I could get things  _ Vivec  _ doesn't have.”

 

Valka turned back to listen to this, grinning, scythe still on one shoulder. “Then you will have to hire an actual carpenter,” he pointed out mildly. “You should anyway.” Their library was already overstuffed and some of the books were now on shelves in her bedroom instead. Valka had built them. Some of them were notably more shelf-like than the others, showing his progress at basic carpentry over time.

 

“Something to reach for,” Eldrin agreed, giving Narlu a little squeeze before setting her down and smoothing out the back of her hair with his palm. She was getting big enough that his arms ached from holding her long. Eldrin intended to reach very far, for her sake.

 

He rolled the shoulder that carried the satchel as he straightened. “I brought the ledger home with me. I'll have a look over it later, see where we stand as far as hiring new help goes. Do the two of you have... plans for the next hour or so?” Eldrin looked from one woman to the other, brow raised in question.

 

“No, Narlu is done with lessons for today,” Naxheer said. Iluni nodded agreement.

 

“I'm at a point where I can reasonably set this aside. What do you need?”

 

Valka coughed into one fist, clearing his throat.

 

“Are you sure?” he said. “You wouldn't rather finish laying out the seams while Narlu plays outside?”

 

Iluni turned slightly darker, smiling sheepishly. “Oh. No, go on in, we've got enough to keep ourselves busy. Off you go.” She made a shooing motion.

 

“Thanks,” Eldrin said, darkening in turn. He hadn't meant to be so obvious. He bumped against Valka's side when he caught up to the Mazken, resting his hand on the small of his back.

 

“What are they going to do?” Narlu asked.

 

“Man things, precious. Let's play another game.” Naxheer ducked down to tickle the toddler, who fled, squealing. Iluni watched them serenely for a moment, then went back to laying out seams, humming to herself.

 

“And how have you been, Valka?” Eldrin asked softly as they passed out of the arch. They'd barely had a chance to speak to one another all week. Even the sleeping arrangements had been disordered, Eldrin taking a bench in Iluni and Naxheer's room while Naxheer slept in the servant's wing. Gilan stayed up annoyingly late for a mer his age.

 

“I have missed holding you as often as I wish this week,” he said frankly, putting an arm around Eldrin's waist in turn. “But I am glad your father went away pleased. A week is no time at all. And now you can sleep where you belong.” He leaned over to kiss the tip of Eldrin's ear gently as they approached the door. “Come take a bath with me. I need a wash.”

 

“Yes,” Eldrin agreed with a grin, rubbing his hand over slick muscle. Valka smelled wonderfully of grass and sunlight and sweaty Mazken and Eldrin almost hated to erase that, but he would not have Valka walk around filthy for his sake. In any case, Eldrin was sure he'd be getting a noseful of musk before it was washed away.

 

The Eldrin of five years ago would not have expected to find himself married to a woman and raising a daughter on a quiet country estate on the mainland. He had not envisioned himself loving a daedra, least of all the strong-willed and infuriating creature he had first summoned beneath his father's roof. He had not envisioned himself coming to resent slavery as an institution or befriending an Argonian. He had not envisioned himself sober, successful, or happy. Now Eldrin had become all three of these things and he could take little credit for them himself. Without Valka to prop him up, Eldrin would have been lost.

 

Nothing could last forever. Narlu would grow up and leave him. Eldrin's beauty would fade, and someday so would he. But Eldrin had today and tomorrow to share with Valka, to wash his back, to kiss his lips, to tell him how lovely and perfect he was inside and out.

 

It was the only future Eldrin could ever hope for.

 

 

THE END


End file.
